


I Had Your Attention All Along

by teal_slippers1990



Series: I Had Your Attention All Along [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 96,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_slippers1990/pseuds/teal_slippers1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Morgan, high school football player, made a proposition to a rather unwilling Spencer Reid, resident school genius. But then, Spencer didn't stand much of a chance, did he? Rated M for later chapters. AU. A bit of OOC for Morgan. Slash Reid/Morgan. For a brief period of time in this story Spencer is 12 years old and Derek is 14. At no point does anyone have sex with a 12 year old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Makes Purgatory?

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds.

Ignore the laughing, Spencer. Ignore it. At least they aren't lingering.

Spencer Reid shifted on his toes, trying to twist his lanky arms into convoluted angles behind his back. He winced as his shoulder blades ground harder into the flagpole pressed against his spine, but kept twisting. If he could just lift his left shoulder a little bit higher… Spencer's calf cramped and he slowly lowered his heels to the ground. The key to this whole process was not to move too quickly (keep all unintentional wiggling and bouncing to a minimum)… And try to forget the burning flush in his cheeks. And the humiliation of being presented to the entire student body of Stewart High naked and tied to a flagpole.

It wasn't fair. He was born this way. Spencer's brain wasn't his fault. Logically, he understood this and knew that he needed to keep himself challenged mentally. That's why he'd finally agreed to skip two grades back in elementary school. Both Spencer's counselor and principal had tried to cajole him into higher grade levels, but Spencer had stood firm in wanting to have at least a semblance of connection with his peers. It's hard to find that as an eight year-old in 7th grade. So the school officials settled with his move up to the 5th grade and Spencer's parents supported his decision.

This situation had worked out well at first. The fifth grade was full of kids who had known Spencer since he was just a toddler. Half the kids in his new class lived on his street. Rode bikes with him. They teased him, sure, but they were jokes made in good humor with no malice. Any bite was taken out of the words when seats were saved for Spencer at lunch. It could have been a ploy to team up on projects or pick his brain later for homework, except each classmate made a point of pulling his or her own weight somehow.

Thinking back from his current position, one might note that his first school had been almost frighteningly idyllic. ...Ok, it was at least way out of the norm.

But Spencer didn't learn that until his father got a big promotion that called for a move to Quantico, Virginia.

Middle school in Quantico was Hell. Yes, Spencer could explain all the cruelty of children away with a few well placed quips on psychology and the incomplete formation of the human brain during the pre-teen years. How it varies based on genetic background, home-life, and peer pressure.

Or he could suck up the cover of intelligence and just admit that it hurt. Enough so that his mother had finished his middle school years with home-schooling, the hope being that a twelve year-old would have more luck with fourteen year-olds in a high school than a nine year-old in a middle school. She was almost right.

Stewart High was purgatory. And why was that?

Shit shit shit! Spencer's head dropped and his burning flush spread down his neck and he just knew it went lower, but he had to focus on disgusting thoughts.

Vomit-worthy scent of the locker room. In the locker room. Boys in the locker room. One boy in the locker room. Der-… NO!

Giggly girls with too much make-up and too-tight clothes. Giggly girls massed together in the lunch room all giggling at the same time. Sitting at the same table. Sitting close for a reason. For a guy. Dere-… NO!

Grandma's underwear! Not enough. Grandma without underwear! Too much! Too much!

But he'd gone. The saving grace of Stewart High stopped laughing at the skinny little nerd roped to the flagpole just long enough to make a dash to the football field before authority figures showed up.

Spencer heard running footsteps and recognized the sharp staccato of Principal Prentiss' heels on the cement walkway and the gruff shouts of Security Chief Gideon. Prentiss untied him and Gideon threw a blanket around his shoulders, which Spencer clutched tightly closed. He barely heard Prentiss' soothing murmurs and Gideon's firm demands to know who had tied Spencer up.

They knew he wouldn't cave. He hadn't in two years and they never understood why. Spencer attended his mandatory weekly meetings with the counselor to monitor his emotional status in a group of judgmental peers, and that was all that his educators could require.

At Spencer's mumbled request, Gideon retrieved Spencer's gym clothes from the locker room. He and Prentiss sighed as they watched the boy grab his bag from his hall locker and head home. They'd done all they could really. Reported all incidents to his parents, who had no better luck with getting any answers, except that Spencer refused to be pulled out. Put his locker as close to the front office as possible. Kept him in the eye of most all the teachers. But the school couldn't afford cameras for the halls or entrances yet, and bathrooms and locker rooms were matters of privacy anyway.

Spencer would have to find a few protectors in the students, or give up the names of his tormentors. Neither of which seemed to be likely.

Spencer scuffed his shoes against the pavement as he started the two block walk home. He should have been in more of rush to escape his daily nightmare, but his feet slowed involuntarily as he passed by the fence at the edge of the football field.

Mistake. The team was running laps. So yes, he got to see a trim, sweating, glory of masculine perfection in the form of Derek Morgan jog by in his partial uniform and shoulder pads. But the whole team saw Spencer just as clearly. Their personal toy geek.

Most of Spencer's torture was at the hands of these over-grown halfwits. This afternoon's spectacle being a prime example. On the way out of the bathroom, right before the last bell ending homeroom, four of the football players had accosted Spencer and carried him out to the flagpole.

His protests were muffled by one assailant's hand as they laughed and detailed the staged fight taking place on the opposite side of the school as a distraction. As first time offenders, the fighting pair would get off lightly so long as they hugged, made-up, and wrote an essay on violence in schools. For halfwits, these guys were devious.

Whistling, jeering, cat calls, general derogatory remarks and sexual innuendos… And the saving grace. "Hey, Pretty Boy, barely recognized you under all those clothes!" Derek Morgan called him Pretty Boy again.

Ok so it was an insult aimed at his baby face, complete lack of muscle tone, and long wavy hair. And it was carefully highlighted by the gasping guffaws of his brutish teammates, but it was a nickname just for Spencer.

Of course, Spencer couldn't fight the bright red blush that arose at the mention of his recent humiliation. In the back of his mind he kept a running physiological explanation for the constant blushing, while in the forefront he couldn't seem to force his body to move.

The coach hollered across the field for the team to stop loafing and get their butts to the coolers. That was all it took to break Spencer away and he turned to flee. He'd barely managed two steps when a hand snagged his shirt and hauled him backwards against the fence. When had he let himself get so close? The thought was forgotten as hot breath ghosted across his ear.

"I have a proposition for you, Pretty Boy," Derek chuckled softly in his ear.


	2. The Propostion

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds.**

Spencer had to force himself to breathe evenly. But even then his response came out with an undignified squeak.

"What kind of proposition?" His lips are so close. Don't think about his lips. Don't think about his lips on your neck. Don't think about his teeth on your neck. I must be so red…

"Wait in the locker room."

"Now?" Stupid squeak. Spencer cleared his throat and tried not to let the heat pulsing from Derek's body distract him. "But I have homework and…"

"Be there." Derek released Spencer's collar with a shove as the coach shouted threats of extra laps over the length of the field. "Don't make me tell you again."

Spencer turned to watch Derek sprint in the direction of the water coolers, clinging to the fence with one hand until he had the shaking in his knees under control. The other buried itself in the waves of his hair and pulled, a nervous habit. "What the hell was that…"

More importantly, why did Spencer feel his feet moving? In the wrong direction. Why was he headed back to the school?

Because he wanted to know. He had to know what this proposition was. It was probably just a lure to drag out the "joke" of this afternoon, but Spencer couldn't make himself care enough to turn back. Derek had never touched him before. Not in correlation to a prank, or anything else. How could Spencer miss the chance to know what had possessed his fantasy to reach out and pull Spencer back?

Besides, Spencer could always just say no if this became something uncomfortable. Right? His brain promptly provided the statistics for how frequently that thought process had failed in war negotiations.

Two hours later, Spencer had finished all the work for tomorrow and the reading assignments for the rest of the week. Plus a bit of recreational reading in his favorite chapters of his history book.

Now he had nothing to distract him from the memory of Derek's breath in his ear… Even in Spencer's wettest dreams, he'd never come close to imagining how provocative warm breath brushing over his skin would be. Of course, he didn't have any experience to base his imaginings off of so that allowed for a rather large margin of error as far as realism and accuracy were concerned.

Spencer pulled his thoughts up short with a wince, pulling harder at his hair. This was why his peers tortured him. Who applied accuracy and margins of error to wet dreams? Beyond that, who could do that and still manage to hold an erection? What teenaged male thinks of it as an erection?

Spencer's increasingly hysterical thoughts were stopped cold when he heard the echoing of male voices in the halls. Practice was over. And Spencer was sitting in the locker room waiting for Derek with a very noticeable bulge in his pants.

He scurried over to his own locker, as far from the door as he could get, and pulled his open history book into his lap.

Just don't attract attention to yourself. Don't say anything. Don't breathe loudly. Why did I come back?

There was no way the team didn't know he was there. Derek was the first through the door and he'd looked right at Spencer. What confused Spencer was the knowing laughs of the rest of the team. What was going on? Why weren't they bothering him?

Spencer kept his eyes on his history book, doing his best to ignore the fit bodies stripping down around him. Specifically one body. Spencer's face burned with his blush. This wasn't helping the issue under his textbook. He heard showers running, towel slaps, general laughter, and the zipping of bags. Why had Derek made him wait? For this? Why did it feel like the whole team was staring at him? Spencer had managed to keep his eyes lowered for fear of ejaculating in his pants if he caught sight of a shirtless Derek. But now the door was slamming as the team started clearing out and still Derek hadn't said anything…

"So, Morgan, want us to stick around in case he needs a bit more convincing?"

Spencer jolted and his head snapped up. Aaron Hotchner, the team's quarterback, and three of the more mindless players stood directly in front of Spencer. Just staring.

Spencer started to tremble. Why couldn't he remember their names? How could all those facts fit inside his skull, but he couldn't remember three simple names? That wasn't important, though. What was? Where was Derek? Why wasn't Spencer looking down? There had to be a reason…

So Spencer glanced down… And had to put all of his weight in his elbows to keep his book from rising. Derek sat directly across from him. Wearing nothing but a white towel on his waist and a smirk. Spencer could clearly see the curve of well-trained muscles working across Derek's chest and shoulders work as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers.

"No, I don't think he'll give me any trouble, Hotch. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Derek never took his off Spencer's.

Spencer couldn't take it any longer and lowered his gaze to his lap, letting his silky waves curtain his blush. He barely heard the door shut as the boys left.

Why is there no air in this room? There was air before. It's not possible to make a room airtight that quickly unless specific measures have been taken. I didn't see any of the-

A cry ripped from Spencer's throat as a strong hand tugged his head back sharply, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight to his groin.

"Do I have your attention now, Pretty Boy?" Derek tightened his grip and jerked Spencer's head further back, forcing Spencer to look straight up at him. "Are you ready to hear my proposition?"

Between the distraction of the water droplets lingering on Derek's flexing pectorals—Why isn't he dry yet?—and the delicious pull at his scalp—When did I develop masochistic tendencies?—Spencer was barely able to strangle a moan. Whatever sound came out, Derek took it as a yes.

"Good boy," Derek smirked and released Spencer's hair, letting him slump back against the lockers.

Spencer watched, panting slightly, as Derek crouched down to eye-level in front of him. Spencer had to force himself to keep his eyes on Derek's face and off of his chest and gaping towel. The flush on his cheeks was going to become permanent if it didn't fade soon.

"I have a problem, Pretty Boy." Derek spoke casually, belying the situation. "For some reason, the coach actually cares about my work ethic off the field. He thinks it could be better. That may have something to do with the fact that I haven't turned in a shred of homework this semester, but that's not the point. The point is I could do it, but I don't have to. You're going to do it for me."

Spencer had listened silently up to this point, knowing where Derek was headed, but hoping he was wrong.

"Why in the world would I-"

Spencer yelped as Derek's hand tangled in his hair again, this time yanking him off the bench and on to his knees on the floor.

How can he stay crouched like that and still throw me around?

Derek called him back to the present, speaking harshly in his ear. "Let me finish, Pretty Boy."

Spencer gulped and nodded as best he could, trying not to let the shivers running through his body become too obvious.

"There's my boy. You're going to do this. Because," Derek snapped forward onto his knees, pressing his body flush to Spencer's and forcing his thigh roughly between Spencer's legs and ripping a moan from his throat, "I've had your attention all along, haven't I, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer sobbed as Derek pulled harder, forcing Spencer to bow backwards over the bench, the edge grinding painfully into his back.

"That stunt at the flagpole this afternoon was for my benefit. The team tried to convince me that I wouldn't have to work very hard to get your agreement, but I didn't believe them until I got a good look at you this afternoon. If you were trying to hide that hard-on, it wasn't working." Derek's smirk grew a bit. "And now for what you'll get out of this arrangement."

Derek loomed over Spencer, making him shudder as the friction against his groin increased, and murmured into his ear, "I'm a healthy teenage boy with needs. You can't imagine the chaos it would cause in my social circle if I actually picked one of the girls that cling to me. Which is why you will be the outlet for those needs, won't you, Pretty Boy?"

Derek punctuated the question with a hard bite on the shell of Spencer's ear. And that was it for Spencer's tenuous grip on his orgasm. He clawed at Derek's shoulders and ground shamelessly against his thigh as he came in his gym shorts.

Derek released him with a laugh and stood up, staring down at the quivering boy on the ground. "Look at what you've done, now I have to shower again. But I'll take that as a yes. See you tomorrow, Pretty Boy."

Spencer gazed after Derek as he sauntered back into the shower stalls. It took all his strength to pull himself up off the floor and onto the bench. For some reason the only thing that seemed of any importance was how he would walk home with the stain in his shorts.


	3. You Had Me With That Kiss

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds.

Spencer curled up on his window seat, his knees tucked to his chest. He plucked at his mismatched socks with one hand and tugged at his hair with the other. His favorite volume of 14th century poetry lay ignored at his feet.

His parents had questioned him about coming home so late and he'd made vague references to a study session with a classmate. Spencer was expecting a lecture about informing them when plans changed, but the mere mention of a potential friend in their awkward son's life seemed to smooth the whole thing over.

Since he'd already finished everything at school, Spencer once again had nothing to distract him from his thoughts of Derek.

His attraction to Derek began on their first day of high school. The school's tradition was to start the first day of every year with a pep rally, during which they introduced all the players of each team. It was some sort of effort to boost team morale and school pride right from the beginning.

The new freshman of each team were called out first, and the seniors ran out last with an annoying ruckus of cheers and stomping and those annoying clappers that had an interesting history based in Japanese culture… But anyway, Spencer hadn't noticed any of that.

Derek had his full attention as soon as his helmet came off. That brilliant white smile. The unconstrained motions of his body. The deep timbre of his voice when he joined in with the chanting cheerleaders. All of it was so free…So natural… So very different from the tight control Spencer kept over himself.

He was so beautiful… And not in reference to the golden ration either, though he fits that standard as well. Of course he does. Derek fits-no-surpasses every standard of beauty I've ever known. Including those described by Shakespeare in the third verse of—NOT THE POINT! Focus.

And Spencer truly did need to focus. What Derek had given him this afternoon wasn't a proposition, but a terrifying opportunity. Spencer had toyed with the thought of hating Derek for assaulting him, of pulling his shattered dignity and battered emotions around him like a cloak.

But the fact was, after careful consideration over several cups of coffee, or "syrup" as his parents called it—My coffee is not syrup, it's delicious—Spencer knew that cloak was full of gaping holes. On any given day before this, Spencer would have given a year's supply of coffee, probably more, to have Derek's body pressed to him like that. And Derek had done this voluntarily. Just like that day at the pep rally.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Derek had broken from the rest of the team during one of the cheerleading stunts and grabbed the head cheerleader after she'd flipped from the top of a pyramid—What a terrible stunt. Who approved that? Those girls didn't receive appropriate training, she could have easily damaged the lumbar sections of the girls under her feet with that push off—He kissed her right there in front of the entire school. Senior QB included, who at the time was dating the girl—I wonder if high school students are aware of how perfectly their social queues and interactions align with those of the original caveman society—because Spencer was fairly certain Derek would have clubbed the girl over the head and run off with her if a tool had been available.

Spencer sighed. Another freedom Spencer never gave himself. Derek was willing to take what he wanted. And he wasn't afraid to face the consequences for it. He hadn't made it to the starting line until the next year, after that quarterback graduated. Based on the smirk on Derek's face in yearbook, with his arms wrapped around the head cheerleader at homecoming, he'd never regretted it.

But Spencer also had to consider, that girl hadn't lasted long. The break-up after her graduation had been mutual.

Although…Derek was fourteen at the time…It's quite certain that they engaged in sexual intercourse. But I suppose statutory rape isn't always a concern when the male counterpart is the risk. Also he was the instigator and quite clearly a willing participant, as I recall.

He'd had walked in on the two in the little used bathroom on the bottom floor of the school. Spencer had discovered that his tormentors rarely lurked in the area, where as he was almost certain to find one in every bathroom on the upper floors. But that day…

Apparently, the girl's task took a lot of concentration. She never gave any indication that she'd heard someone walk in. Derek knew though.

If Spencer had understood at a glance what he'd walked in on, as most boys would have, he would have turned and walked out. Simple as that.

They weren't even trying to hide in a stall. Derek was leaning casually back against the wall, customary smirk in place. Her head blocked the view, but his pants were clearly undone and his belt hung loose.

At first, Spencer was confused. There was a girl in the boys' bathroom, which gave him pause enough, but this wasn't a situation he'd ever encountered before. Spencer's eyes met Derek's and he opened his mouth to ask why or what or…or anything, but she did something and Derek's jaw slackened slightly and his lips parted in a gasp. A gasp Spencer couldn't help but echo as he watched Derek's facial expression transform to reflect his pleasure.

The girl paused. She'd heard. Spencer panicked and started to turn. Until he caught Derek's eyes again.

Derek's hand snapped up and buried in her hair, holding her in place. He spoke to her, "Keep going, baby, I'm close," but his eyes never left Spencer's.

Spencer couldn't help himself as his feet silently turned to fully face the sight in front of him. The girl had renewed her activity in earnest now. Derek spoke quietly to her between muffled moans.

"Harder."

"Use your tongue more."

"Faster."

"Easy on the teeth, baby."

And still his gaze never left Spencer.

It was all Spencer could do to hold still. One hand clutched his messenger bag tightly to his side, the other fought and lost the battle not to reach up and bury itself in his own hair. His teeth dug into his bottom lip until it bled.

He memorized and categorized the sounds that each enacted instruction produced. The muffled moans and groans and gasps that passed Derek's lips. The way his hips jerked and his hand pulled at her hair. The hand fisted against the wall supporting him. All of it pooled in his lower stomach.

Spencer knew he was flushed and sweating and shaking and from the smirk that still lingered on his face, Derek knew it too. He knew exactly what this was doing to the poor twelve year-old boy watching them. Better than Spencer knew himself, in fact. And that reaction was quickly becoming a problem that he didn't know how to deal with.

Spencer had never experienced an erection with the exception of the occasional early morning occurrence that faded as he went about his morning routine. It had never been accompanied by this burning need that had his hips jerking for any sort of friction he could find.

Instinctively, Spencer knew he couldn't give his body what it was searching for. Not here. Not in front of Derek. That crossed an unspoken social boundary even Spencer knew existed. But he silently assured himself he would research it later to reach a greater understanding of the nuances of this encounter.

And what informative research it was. Still is… The human interpretation and response to sexual advances is fascinating. Such as why that girl, still can't remember her name, allowed a younger male to dominate her so efficiently even when her social status was much greater based on seniority. Apparently, this is of great importance in the educational setting. But again the caveman logic came into play, it seems. Younger male won out in a dominance battle with a larger more aggressive male and this prompted a physical attraction from the female in question, the base need coming forth to find a strong male to create strong young.

At the time, Derek didn't seem very interested in the creation of offspring, though. And neither did the girl. She didn't even correct him when he ejaculated in her mouth, which certainly wouldn't result in procreation.

But Derek's arching moan did result in Spencer almost losing control in his pants. Not helped by his attempt to distract himself with another tug at his own locks—Should have noticed the masochistic tendencies then. Except they only seem to occur around Derek. That will take more intensive study later.

The girl moved to stand up, only to be stopped yet again by Derek's hand on her shoulder. She said something Spencer couldn't recall—Inconsequential nonsense —and the bell rang —Or not.Derek finally took his eyes off of Spencer and looked down at her, "Hang on, baby, I'll make sure no one's around. You stay until I tell you the coast is clear."

For those last words he looked dead at Spencer, who quickly slipped (as quickly as possible with a painful erection anyway) halfway through the short hallway maze that kept the bathroom entrance private.

"Well, the guys are right. For a boy, you certainly are a pretty thing. Did you enjoy the show, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer jumped and turned at the quiet murmur behind him. He hadn't actually expected Derek to speak to him. Maybe punch him.

Derek took an slow, calculated, step forward, "I can trust you won't be making a fuss about this, hmmm?"

Spencer shook his head violently.

"Good. Now clear out."

Spencer took off, only vaguely hearing Derek's reassurances to the girl that they were safe to leave.

... ... ... ... ... ...

I wonder why Derek doubted I was attracted to him after that encounter? He must have thought my physical response was due to observing the act of oral intercourse, rather than his involvement. Or maybe…he thought I was putting myself in his place and not her's… Ewww. Why would I want a girl to do that to me?

Spencer shook it off. Most teenage males probably would have enjoyed that, it wasn't an unreasonable conclusion on Derek's part.

Sighing, Spencer look at his lap were a noticeable tent had formed. He turned his thoughts to the consideration of the discrepancies between psychological theory and philosophical debate brought up in a book he'd recently finished, resolving to give Derek his answer the next day in homeroom.


	4. More

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

Spencer was shaking. Violently. He was a mess. He'd forgotten his lunch. That lunch was meant to keep him from having to enter the cafeteria, let him eat in the very empty library.

Students brushed by him. Talking, laughing, complaining, cursing—

Can those words even go together?

Spencer took a deep breath. He could do this. Really. They didn't even sit together. There was no reason for Derek to acknowledge him before homeroom.

I'm not a coward. I will talk to him. Just…not for a couple more hours. That's not cowardly. Cowardly implies timidity and fear in a dangerous or stressful situa— No, that's not the definition I wanted… Ok, here. Cowardly implies that I'm avoiding danger, pain, or diffic— Damn. I'm a coward. Deep breaths. You can be a coward, there's no shame in that. Embrace it. Hold your head high. Go in and eat your lunch. You do it every day.

That little pep talk got him through the door with his back straight and his walk steady. His eyes were focused dead ahead. So naturally they would meet the one pair that had been trained on the door since lunch started. Cool brown eyes stared right back at him and Derek smirked.

Or look at the floor. That works too. There's nothing different about these walls. You don't need to see them. I wonder what that stain used to be…

And that distraction got him all the way through the lunch line, with a mumbled 'thank you' as he walked off with his tray. But he felt the intensity of Derek's gaze on his neck all the way through.

Now you have to look up. You need to find a spot to sit. Come on, look up.

And again there was Derek.

How is no one else noticing this? They have to feel this atmosphere… No, they don't. Spencer, you're delusional. The so called "atmosphere" is merely the buildup of a subconscious understanding of signals gathered from body language between two or more individuals involved in a method of communication resulting in an emotional—So there's a goddamned atmosphere if I say there is!

Derek's eyes flicked to the empty seat one isle over, the unspoken order more tangible than any atmosphere Spencer could dream up. The space directly across from him. If Spencer sat there he would see Derek every time he looked up. And Derek wouldn't even have to try to keep Spencer in sight.

So why am I sitting here again?

In Spencer's "atmosphere" the clack of his tray on the table shattered sound barriers.

Because he's proven his dominance. Many times over. He's already clubbed me over the head. Figuratively speaking that is.

Spencer fought not to think back to the locker room. That would end in a lot of embarrassment.

Derek was still staring at him. Spencer doggedly plowed through his unidentifiable meat selection. The pressure against his neck was telling him to look up. He'd fought it through soggy vegetables and a mealy apple, avoiding both Derek's eyes and the "meat" on his plate.

I think it just moved…

Since the meat was a lost cause, Spencer had no other excuse not to respond to the command now branded on his forehead. His head felt like a dead weight on his neck as Spencer struggled to lift his eyes up to Derek's.

Has he even blinked?

Derek's smirk became even more smug if that was possible. The overbearing attitude and obvious conceit should have made Spencer at the very least annoyed, if not angry. Instead it pulled at his groin as the now familiar heat simultaneously rose to color his face and sank to linger in his stomach. Based on the increase in the occurrence and pitch of the giggles from the girls at Derek's table, Spencer wasn't the only one feeling the effects.

One of the girls picked that moment to twine her arms around Derek's neck and practically hung off of him. Glancing over her bony arms and claw-like nails the first thought that popped into Spencer's head was 'spider monkey'. But that might have been jealousy speaking, because he could feel it tightening his shoulder's and pursing his lips.

What is wrong with me? They're all over him every day and I've never been jealous before. Ok that's a lie, I was pretty jealous of that one girl in the beginning. But not since then. Just because he wants to use me for a physical outlet—Spencer's flush grew deeper—doesn't make this a committed relationship.

Laughter erupted at Derek's table. Apparently, one of the girls had made some base attempt at humor that had the rest of the table cackling. Derek was laughing too. Spencer was fairly certain it wasn't at the joke. It may have been the delusions wreaking havoc on his brain, but he would bet anything Derek's laughter was because he'd seen Spencer's moment of jealousy. And that was what finally pushed Spencer through embarrassed and annoyed and straight into pissed.

He stood up and grabbed his tray, dumping it down the return as he stormed out of the cafeteria. He even made it through the door without giving in to the urge to look back.

Spencer spent the rest of lunch (a glorious ten minutes) in library.

Having such a short period of time to consume our food is terrible for our digestive systems. But then again, so is the food.

The next three periods passed at crawl, but they were still too fast for Spencer's taste. Typically, he looked forward to homeroom. Since he was considered a responsible student, and he never had any organization obligations, Spencer got to spend homeroom however he pleased. It usually pleased him to spend the whole thirty minutes in the school's substantial library, and at twenty thousand words per minutes Spencer could cover a lot of material.

At first he'd worried that he would run out of books before the year was up, but it turned out that an anonymous donor had gifted the Stewart's High with an exorbitant amount of money with specific instructions to use it for the library. From time to time in his own little fantasy world, Spencer liked to pretend it was a gift just for him. He loved that library. JJ, the librarian, (Spencer was forbidden to call her Ms.) always pulled out the new arrivals that she thought he might be interested in. And since they knew each other so well, none of the other students dared bother him there for fear of drawing her attention.

A respite he wouldn't be getting that afternoon.

Spencer gulped as he trudged to homeroom, weighed down by every textbook he had. On the off chance Derek had been looking for him in the halls, Spencer had grabbed every book early this morning and hadn't been to his locker since. He had also bypassed any bathroom breaks and, to make that less uncomfortable, fluids.

This is pathetic… No, it's not. I am going to talk to him. I mean, he already made the decision for me yesterday, but I have to at least hold a semblance of control in this. He can't just have me on a leash—STOP PERVERTING THAT!

Spencer had to pause and take a moment to think of philosophical theories with his messenger bag held awkwardly in front of his awakening arousal.

Besides, I highly doubt that's one of his preferred scenarios—STOP IT!

He finally gave up and walked quickly to his homeroom. The rest of the class was sent off to club meetings or sentenced to thirty minutes of silent working, while Spencer took a few more minutes to mentally prepare himself.

When that failed miserably, he simply stood up and checked himself out of class.

Spencer's steps echoed through the empty halls as he made his way to Derek's homeroom.

He's going to think I'm stalking him because I know where he is right now. There's no way he'll remember that book I dropped off with his teacher at the beginning of the year. Wait…half his team's in that class! They're all going to think I'm a stalker!

Reid stopped dead and buried one hand in his hair.

What's sad is that might actually get me points with a couple of them. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have to make sure Derek knows that he can't have all the control in this. I'm putting my foot down.

Spencer looked at his shaking knees.

I'm so screwed.

He wasn't sure how, but he'd made it to the door of the classroom. Derek had the same freedom Spencer did during homeroom, his coming from athletics rather than grades. All Spencer had to do was beckon him out of the room. Keep his voice down, say his piece, and he might even end up with some time in the library after all.

Just duck your head in and wave him out. That's it.

Spencer scooted up to the doorframe and took a deep breath. He leaned his head around the corner—

And didn't have to say a thing because he almost smacked his face into Hotch's chest.

Hotch raised an eyebrow and looked back over his shoulder, "Morgan, I think Reid's here to see you."

Apparently, I'm the only one who thinks I'm a stalker.

Spencer flushed, partly from mild annoyance at the assumption, but his pride slumped in defeat. Why else would he be here? The flush faded when he saw something like surprise flicker across Derek's face. At least one person hadn't thought it obvious.

Then his smirk settled into place and reality clicked.

He couldn't see me through Hotch's chest. If he'd seen me, he would have known I'm here for him.

Spencer sighed hopelessly as Derek approached the door, the rest of the class mumbling behind him and trying not to be obvious with their eavesdropping.

"I'm not going to be able to do this outside the door without them listening, am I?" Spencer grumbled.

Derek chuckled lightly, "Not a chance. We'll have to find a more…secluded location."

Spencer's eyes jerked up and he tried not to shiver, "Don't look at me like that. I just have a few things to say and that's it."

Derek's eyes darkened, "Sure, Pretty Boy, sure. You know what, I've got the perfect spot."

Spencer couldn't hide the tremble that went through him this time. Derek acknowledged it with a predatory grin.

"Come on." He gently maneuvered Spencer from the doorway and started them down the hallway. Gently enough that Spencer started to relax, thinking this might actually go as planned anyway.

They had turned the corner and were headed down the stairwell before Spencer's doubts set in.

"Derek, wait—" Derek's grip on Spencer's arm tightened abruptly.

"Hush."

Spencer began struggling in earnest. "Where-"

"Stop that." Derek jerked his arm roughly. "Remember, you came to me this time."

They're hit the lowest floor of the school, and Spencer knew exactly where they were headed now. They turned one more corner and Derek dragged him through the little hallway into the bottom floor bathroom. He twisted Spencer sharply by the arm, pulling a gasp from his lungs, then shoved back into the wall.

Spencer flinched as his back hit cold cement. The cold disappeared as Derek's body crowded up against him. Spencer squirmed and lifted his hands to push Derek back, "Now, Derek, look—"

Derek snatched Spencer's slender wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. "I think I will, thanks."

Spencer's legs nearly gave out beneath him when he saw the blatant lust in Derek's eyes as they roamed over his body. Spencer's brain couldn't seem to align that amount of want with the sweater vest and slacks he'd put on that morning.

Spencer tugged at his wrists and attempted to pull away from the wall, fighting his body's desire to arch up into the heat emanating from Derek's larger form.

"Hold still," Derek growled in his ear, caging Spencer's body against the wall with his own. Spencer swallowed a moan as he inhaled Derek's scent. Old Spice flavored with a scent that was all Derek's own body chemistry.

Shouldn't be attracted to his scent... An appreciation for the scent of an individual's sweat indicates complementary immune systems for an offspring... Can't have offspring with him...

Spencer shifted against Derek in his agitation. Mistake. His lips parted in a silent gasp and he gave in, letting his muscles sag against the wall. Any more friction and Derek was going to feel the growing hardness in Spencer's pants.

"Much better." Derek's chuckle rumbled in his chest and shook Spencer's core. "So what was it you wanted to say, Pretty Boy?"

Say…I wanted to say something? Oh oh! I did…It was…Ummm…It was important. Something about…

Teeth sinking into the skin low on his neck tore the moan he'd been fighting and shattered his already befuddled train of thought. He tried to glare up at Derek, but could only manage a pleading stare.

"You were drifting off on me. Keep looking at me like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions," Derek's growl was back, adding to Spencer's arousal.

There was no way Derek couldn't feel it pressing against him. Spencer could certainly feel Derek's pressing into him. Derek was tall enough that the head of his growing erection was digging deliciously into Spencer's stomach. Making him wish for…more. But Spencer wasn't sure what he wanted more of.

"Start talking or I'm going to assume you came to me because you wanted to play," Derek ground his thigh harshly between Spencer's leg, making him sob against Derek's chest.

Words…important…you wanted…

"More…" Spencer gasped out… then froze.

THAT WASN'T IT!

The grip on Spencer's wrists tightened until it was sure to leave bruises and Derek's other hand dug into the skin at Spencer's hip.

"Gladly."


	5. Earn It

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

"But you'll have to earn it first," Derek's teeth grazed Spencer's ear

Spencer shuddered at the feeling of hot breath against his ear and tried to clear his throat, "That's not…I mean I didn't…AH!"

He couldn't contain a wavering gasp, bucking into the hand on his hip that held him in place while Derek ground against him.

"You didn't? That's odd. I'm not feeling a lot of refusal right now," Derek moved his hand off of Spencer's hip and closer to the painful erection tenting his pants.

Spencer bit his lip, whimpering and trying his best not to twist his hips into Derek's hand. "It's umm…a sta…statist…statistica…" Spencer shuddered again as Derek's hand moved closer and pulled himself together. "It's not likely that my hormone-ridden teenage body will be able to say no to this amount of stimulation."

It had sounded accurate in Spencer's head, but the words seemed to come out in one rushed jumble.

"We'll pretend I understood that, and I'll pretend it's just what I want to hear," Derek released Spencer's wrists and hip, catching him as he stumbled forward.

All efforts at denial worn down by lust and a vague anticipation, Spencer let Derek move him as he liked, only hesitating a second when he was backed into the handicapped stall.

Why are we...He didn't make...

The thought fractured when his knees hit the hard floor, a hand on his shoulder pushing him down. Spencer flinched at the shock to his knees and the pleasure/pain of his head getting yanked back by his hair to angle up at Derek. He stared at Derek, lifting his hands but unsure of what exactly Derek wanted, leaving them fluttering tentatively at his belt loop.

"That's it, Pretty Boy, don't make me spell it out," Derek used his grip on Spencer's hair to force him to lean backwards. He stepped forward, feet on either side of Spencer's knees, practically straddling his chest.

Spencer was panting heavily, completely overwhelmed by now with his own need and anticipation. He could barely hear his thoughts, but one crept through.

How come he didn't hide her, but he'll hide me?

But he wasn't distracted for long. Derek's position over him forced Spencer to cling to Derek's hips if he didn't want to lose his balance and risk losing hair. His face was positioned directly in front of Derek's very evident arousal.

A sharp tug brought his eyes up and a breathy moan from his throat. Derek's eyes closed briefly and his grip tightened. "Now, Reid," Derek growled.

Spencer's hands fumbled with the loop, caught off guard by the use of his last name, but he finally managed to get the belt undone. The pants took a bit more concentration, difficult with the rhythmic tugging at his hair punctuated by Spencer's whimpers. And an overall shudder when he discovered Derek wasn't wearing anything but his jeans.

"Reid…" Derek murmured, sounding slightly out of breath.

Spencer's eyes were wide, trying to comprehend the specimen before him. His brain attempted to produce statistics based on average size for his age group, but he seemed to be experiencing a mental short. The only conclusion he reached with any certainty was that Derek was quite large for a teenager. Much larger than Spencer in both length and width.

He reached forward tentatively, wrapping a hand around Derek's hot length and squeezing gently.

"Fuck, Pretty Boy, don't tease me," Derek groaned, thrusting into Reid's hand. Reid felt strands of hair pulling from his scalp in Derek's grip, sending shots of pleasure to his aching groin.

Slowly, Spencer parted his lips and darted his tongue out, lingering only long enough to taste.

And that was all Derek could take. His grip on Spencer's hair disappeared, destroying his precarious balance. His mouth fell open in a gasp as the fall began, exactly as Derek wanted. His hand shot out and cupped the back of Spencer's head. Derek's hips snapped forward, forcing himself as far as he could get into Spencer's open mouth and holding him there with the hand on his head.

Spencer gagged immediately and began pushing at Derek's hips, trying to ease the pressure.

"I said don't tease," Derek panted heatedly. "Stop struggling and relax your throat. There we go," Derek waited until Spencer's throat and jaw muscles slackened to pull back enough for Spencer to breathe properly.

There was a pause…And when Spencer began sucking and licking in earnest, Derek's knees almost gave out.

Spencer breathed heavily through his nose, drunk on a scent he didn't fully understand. Once the shock of being gagged passed, he realized the scent matched the taste on his tongue. Bitter, salty, musky, male. Derek. Every sense was consuming knowledge of Derek's basic essence. Spencer's hands on his skin, hot and smooth. His eyes crotch level, but looking up, taking in the unmasked lust and pleasure on Derek's face. Derek's pants and low moans.

All things others had seen, tasted, heard, touch, and smelled before. But they didn't have Spencer's knowledge of hormones and pheromones, of universal body language. His research on sexual encounters was based on more than pornography. He'd studied it from a psychological and physiological angle as well. No, he didn't have the experience to back the knowledge, but he had the basics. And with the object of two years of desire willingly participating, Spencer was going to make up for his lack of experience with all of this on top of the long remembered set of instructions Derek had already provided.

Combined with a level of enthusiasm Derek hadn't found in even the sluttiest cheerleader, he didn't stand a chance.

Spencer's hands wandered freely, all hesitation gone. His perfectly manicured nails raked over Derek's taunt stomach and smooth hipbones. Drawing moans and gasps as effectively as his mouth. He found more erogenous zones in that small section of canvas than Derek had been aware of on his entire body.

"God, how the hell do you know what I like?"

Spencer's hand replaced his mouth, squeezing lightly as it slid over the turgid skin, and Derek took that opportunity to jerk Spencer's head back again.

"You're loving this aren't you, Pretty Boy?" Derek growled, his eyes dark eyes hazed and burning, pupils blown. Spencer couldn't moved his head to nod an affirmative, and his brain was too clouded with lust to form the words, but Derek took his plaintive whimper as a yes. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cock as far down your throat as you can get it."

"I…I…want it.," Spencer strained against Derek's grip and tried to pull his hips closer.

Derek yanked him back and smirked, "That's not what I said."

Spencer's full body flush turned a shade brighter. "Um…I uh—Please, Derek."

Derek started to step back and Spencer's nails dug into his hip bones.

"No, please! I um…I want your uh…c-co um cock. And I uh…That is…ummm… Iwantyoutoejaculateinmymouth," Spencer choked out in a rush, closing his eyes tightly in mortification.

Derek chuckled darkly, "A filthy mouth is cute on you, Pretty Boy."

Derek pulled Spencer's head forward to meet the thrust of his hips, moaning when Spencer took his entire length between his lips. "Let me teach you a few new words. I'm not going to 'ejaculate' in your mouth. I'm going to fuck your mouth until I cum and you're going to swallow every last drop. Clear?"

Derek forced Spencer to pull back again just far enough for him to speak, the look on his face making it obvious he wanted to hear Spencer say it. The mix of Derek's headiness, his crude language, and the pain from Spencer's abused scalp had him on the verge of—um...cumming—without even a single touch.

Spencer's lips brushed against the head of Derek's cock as they moved, his breath cool compared to the heat of his mouth, "You…you're going to ummm…f-fuck my mouth until you…c-cum. And I'm going to uh…swallow all of it."

"Perfect." Spencer's lips were parted as Derek slowly thrust into his mouth again. "Remember to watch the teeth."

Derek's speed increased rapidly, his thrusts coming faster and deeper each time. It was too much for Spencer's overloaded senses. One hand left Derek's hips and slipped down his own torso to his own neglected arousal. Derek caught sight of the movement and stopped, his free hand snatching Spencer's back up to his hip.

"No. Not yet, Pretty Boy," Derek's dark grin returned when Spencer whimpered around his cock. "Soon enough."

He met Spencer's second whimper with a rough thrust that had him gagging again, "I told you, you had to earn it."

Spencer gave up and tried to keep his mind off of the pulsing heat in his groin that was fast becoming pain by focusing on keep his jaw relaxed and teeth back. He curled his tongue up tightly against the cock pounding into his throat, pulling a moan from Derek with every thrust.

Derek's pace became frenzied and Spencer struggled to keep up. He knew from research that the pulsing against his tongue indicated Derek was very close to orgasm—I mean, cumming— but he was still startled by the sudden muffled groan followed by a mouthful of thick, bitter liquid. Spencer dutifully swallowed every drop, swiping his tongue over the head of Derek's cock to get the last of the flavor before he pulled away.

"Fuck…" Derek slumped back against the wall, panting heavily, already doing up his belt.

Spencer licked his lips clean of the last traces of Derek's…cum. Still drowning in his own need for release, he didn't really think about the words that came out of his mouth next.

"I don't understand… Is fuck a verb or an interjection?" He looked up at Derek through his lashes, his lips swollen and red, cheeks the pink flush of sex.

He blinked in confusion when Derek's pupils dilated again—what aroused him—and yelped when Derek jerked him to his feet by his hair.

"Derek!"

"Shut up. It's your turn, Pretty Boy," Derek spun him around and pressed Spencer's back to his chest, quickly undoing his pants.

Spencer moaned at the treatment…A moan muffled by Derek's hand. They both froze when the echo of steps in the hall reached their ears. Spencer shuddered at Derek's breath ghosting over his ear.

"Not even a whimper, understood?" Spencer nearly panicked when Derek lifted him off the ground with a hand around his hips. He was pushing Spencer to his knees on the toilet seat—don't think about it, at least you're wearing pants—when the steps entered the bathroom.

The real panic set it when Derek placed his hand on top of Spencer's and slid it into his boxer shorts, pulling Spencer's aching, dripping cock free. Spencer's lips parted to release a moan he couldn't contain, only to find his mouth filled with three of Derek's fingers.

Spencer trembled violently against Derek's chest, his own hand wrapped around his cock with Derek's still resting on top. The stark contrast between their hands only added fuel to the fire. Spencer's long slender fingers were pale and delicate on his skin, but he could feel the heat radiating from Derek's broader, stronger grip over top.

Derek's breath was hot on his neck, fingers salty in his mouth, and Spencer could imagine the calluses on Derek's hand sliding over the over-sensitized skin of his cock. That was enough to send him over the edge. Three quick jerks and Spencer came so harder he would have screamed, but Derek had planned for that. The hand gagging him dropped to his neck and wrapped tightly around Spencer's throat. Scream, breath, blood flow…All stopped by Derek's grip.

Spencer's first reaction should have been to fight. To signal the other person in the bathroom somehow. To be afraid. Instead his entire body relaxed against Derek's, submitting to the grip on his throat. Submitting to the hand at his wrist. Lifting Spencer's cum-covered fingers to his lips. Whispering in his ear to lick it clean. And he did as best he could, but his peripheral vision was blackening and his head was light. He experienced a vague happiness when he realized he tasted just a bit like Derek.

And then the other boy was washing his hands and leaving. Derek released his hold on Spencer's neck. At the rush of blood Spencer's body sagged forward, trusting Derek to hold him steady. Trusting him completely.

Derek lifted him up again as the steps faded and set him on the ground, holding Spencer steady and zipping his slacks.

Realization of his position was setting in as the afterglow faded, and Spencer couldn't look up from the floor. Mercifully, he couldn't feel his customary blush rising. Derek unlocked the stall and Spencer tried to scoot by him, but Derek caught his arm.

"Where are you running off to, Pretty Boy?"

"I uh…I have t-to get back to class." Spencer still couldn't bring himself to look up.

What started as a chuckle from Derek became a full bodied laugh. The sound pulled at something inside Spencer, but it was much higher than his groin and far more confusing.

"What's so funny?" Maybe the tug was the indignation kicking in.

"You really were enjoying yourself, weren't you?" Derek stalked towards him purposefully.

"Ye- I mean no-I mean- What?"

"The bell rang ten minutes ago, Reid."

"Oh my gosh! I have to get my stuff and—Ouch!" Spencer's attempt to run for the hallway was cut off as Derek snatched him and pushed him forward over the sink.

"And what? Walk home alone?" Derek gripped Spencer's chin and forced him to look up into the mirror above the sink. "Look at yourself."

Spencer did as he was told, taking in the ruffled hair, flushed cheeks—damn it, I thought I wasn't blushing—untucked shirt, glazed eyes, bruised wrists, faint hickeys, and swollen red lips.

"I look like a disheveled, distracted student who needs to take off a few layers and find some coffee."

Derek snorted, "You look like you've been fucked six ways to Sunday and I don't care what part of town you live in, if you walk home by yourself like this you're gonna get raped."

"What? I don't look anything like that. And I have to get home and do my homework anyway, so please just…" Spencer pushed at Derek's arms.

"No," Derek stepped closer, pressing against Spencer back again and leaning him further over the sink. "You're going to come home with me. Call your parents when we get there and tell them you're helping me with a project."

Spencer's eyes widened, perverting the statement in every possible way. "But we um…We just… It's a bit soon, don't you think?"

One eyebrow ticked up. "To complete a project that's due tomorrow. No, I don't think so. Remember there's two sides to this deal, Pretty Boy. You got your side in advance, now you're going to get your skinny ass to my house and make sure I pass this assignment."

"Oh, right. Ummm yeah. Ok. I need to get my stuff…"

Derek straightened up, catching Spencer by the hips. "Tuck your shirt back in and fix your hair." Spencer did as he was told and turned to find a damp paper towel in his face. "Cool your face off. You're still pink."

Again, Spencer didn't question. Out loud anyway. Inside, his stomach was sinking lower.

He doesn't want anyone to know he's in here with me, but he didn't mind being seen with her. He hides me, but not her. He alludes to the fact that others would find me attractive if I remain disheveled, but he doesn't want to see me that way...

"Come on, Pretty Boy, we need to get our stuff and get going."

Spencer's eyes dropped back to the floor and tried not to make his disappointment too obvious. He was wallowing so deep he didn't even feel Derek's gaze on his back, watching the sway of his slender hips.

Derek's lips twitched into a smirk. That project was a pathetic excuse for an assignment. Derek could have done it in a couple of days if he felt like it, but he didn't. Not when it would only take Spencer an hour or two at most, leaving the rest of the evening free and an oh so malleable Pretty Boy in Derek's bedroom. The smirk grew, unaware that Spencer's spirits were plummeting further in the silence.


	6. Dinner With The Family

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

He doesn't want me…Not really. He's only paying me with what he knows I want so I'll cooperate. Well…Fine. I'll take what I can get for as long as I can. This may be the only chance I have.

Spencer swallowed tears and straightened.

It doesn't matter. Even if this is all I get…I'm going to make sure he enjoys it as much as I do.

He pushed all his doubts to the back of his mind. They would do him no good, only taint the time he had with Derek.

Spencer glanced up from the sidewalk. He'd kept Derek three paces in front of him since they'd left the school. Spencer hated walking in front of anyone.

Besides, this is a fantastic view.

Derek had never bought in on the thug look, not even in his freshman year. And Spencer was at an optimal position to appreciate that choice, his well-fit showing off his body to its greatest advantage.

His muscle definition is amazing. If he has an extra ounce of fat on him, I'd be surprised.

The thought stuck with Spencer for a moment, making him consider Derek's lifestyle beyond the doors of their high school.

He practices. Not just with the team. He does individual drills. Lifts weights. Runs laps, probably over a mile a day on top of afternoon practices. That's a lot of determination. Does he want to go pro? I've never heard any rumors about that at school. And it's a small school. Likelihood of a scout hearing about him…Minimal. Based on state statistics, our team is below average. But within the team, Derek has the highest record of successful plays…

"Oof!" Spencer walked smack into Derek's chest.

Derek raised an eyebrow, "You spend a lot of time your own head. I've been talkin' to you for about five minutes."

Spencer flushed and ducked his head, hair tumbling into his face. "S-Sorry, I…I umm…Was just uh…thinking."

"About?"

"You," Spencer scratched at the back of his neck. "That is y-your uh…Your project."

"Uh-huh. Funny thing is that's what I was explaining. Since we're already on my porch," Derek leaned casually back against his front door.

Spencer's head snapped up and he finally took stock of his surroundings. Average middle-class neighborhood. Areas of new cookie-cutter homes between older originals.

Derek's was an older two story model. Moderate front porch, carefully maintained lawn, exterior in good repair. The paint was a warm yellow, white trim. Lawn chairs on the porch. Comfortable. Doormat in front of the door. Inviting. Somehow…it suited Derek. Maybe not the Derek now, but the Derek someday.

He cleared his throat, "Sorry, you're right. My head space can take a lot of extra effort to navigate."

"Right... How about we go inside and we'll try this again?" Derek opened the door and held it, allowing Spencer to go through first.

Interesting. Displays of courteous behavior towards me but only at home?

If he'd been paying attention, Spencer would have seen Derek's eyes travel over his body as he slipped past him, lingering on his ass.

Derek led Spencer to the kitchen at the base of the stairs and waved him in, "Give your folks a call. I'll see if I can even find the actual assignment."

Spencer mumbled to himself as he crossed the kitchen to the phone in the corner, "How can he be so cavalier about his education… Hey, Mom. Yeah, it's me. No, no, I'm fine. You know the guy I was helping yesterday…Yeah, him. He's got a project he's procrastinated on and I'm over at his house to help out. Umm…Well, I don't know about that. His mother isn't here right now…I can't imagine they would invite me for dinner, Mom… I don't know what the project is yet, actually, so I'm not sure how long it'll be…Fun? It's homework, Mom. I think I'm the only one who enjoys that…Haha, yeah. I'll call when I'm headed home. Love you, too. Bye."

He hung up the phone as Derek came through the door behind him, sheepishly holding up two crumpled half sheets of paper.

"I'm assuming those were attached at one point," Spencer rolled his eyes as Derek smiled his megawatt smile. "So long as there isn't a missing third…?"

"Nope."

"Good…" Spencer took the sheets to the table and leaned over, smoothing his hands over them to flatten them out. His eyes scanned them quickly.

"…There is absolutely no reason you couldn't have done this yourself, is there?" Spencer turned to glance over his shoulder when Derek didn't answer. He was leaning back against the wall, hunched over with one hand cover his eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Hey, are you ok?" Spencer straightened and focused his attention on Derek.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you need anything for this?" Derek gritted out, waving his hand at the table.

"Wha-Oh, no. This basic history…" Spencer murmured, distracted by Derek's obvious discomfort. "Are you sure? You look like you're in pai-"

"I'm fine! Focus on your part of the deal!" Derek snapped, finally looking up and glaring at Spencer.

Spencer flinched and turned back to the paper, leaning over to scan it once more for any missed details. Just a basic tri-fold pamphlet on some event in the early 1800s. It wouldn't take Spencer thirty minutes to write up, he already had quotes and citations memorized from the textbook. The only trick would be making the work look like Derek's on not his own…

"For God's sake, sit down!" A heavy hand jerked Spencer upright and shoved him into a chair.

"So-sorry, I'm sorry. I'll sit. I was just…Sorry," Spencer mumbled, running his hands through his hair and gnawing on his lower lip.

Derek took what appeared to be a series of calming breaths and looked like he was counting, his lips moving rapidly. When he opened his eyes and Spencer was still watching him, eyebrows furrowed and lower lip between his teeth, Derek's hands clenched into fists.

"I'll be in the living room," he jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Let me know if you need anything," he growled, storming out.

Spencer shook his head slowly and his shoulders slumped.

He really can't stand me…I wonder who he was thinking about when I was—Don't think about it, Spencer.

When the flush on his cheeks faded and tears stopped pricking his eyes, Spencer began writing up the highlights on Richard Trevithick, the English mining engineer who built the first steam-driven locomotive.

It makes sense that Derek would be interested in something involving automobiles. I think he took one of those tech-focused classes last year…

Twenty minutes later, Spencer finished citing the last of his external sources and stood to find Derek.

Spencer found him across the hall perched on the edge of a long couch piled high with colorful pillows. In fact, the whole house was colorful, but tasteful. Just as welcoming on the inside as it was outside.

The hallway, the foyer, the kitchen, this living room… I haven't seen a white wall yet. I think I would like his mother.

"Do you have a computer and printer I can use? If not, you're going to have to rewrite this. My handwriting is nothing like yours."

Derek jumped, clearly startled. Whatever he was reading had absorbed all his attention.

"Oh, yeah. In my room," he closed the book and rose, heading for the stairs. "You done already?"

"Mhm, this was nothing… What were you so focused on?" Spencer asked, following Derek up and around a corner.

"An old playbook Coach Rossi gave me from his days at one of the high schools we compete against. He said it would be a good idea for me to learn some of their old plays if I end up quarterback after Hotch graduates."

"Ah. That's good advice, it'd give you a decent advantage against other schools as well if you can hypothesize other deviations from those plays."

Derek glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah…yeah, it would."

He pushed the door on their right open and headed in, flopping down on the bed. Spencer took in the room, hardly believing he was standing in Derek Morgan's bedroom.

The walls were a muted brown, oddly complementing the dark blue blanket acting as Derek's comforter. He only had two plain pillows, a stark contrast to the feminine touch downstairs. Posters plastered only one wall, but the whole wall. Obviously limited only by parental boundaries. The room looked lived in, not trashed as Spencer had expected of the typical teenage jock. Spencer suspected that might again be only due to Derek's respect for his mother's rules.

He sat down at a relatively clear desk, and turned on the computer. "Password?"

"Nope. I've got nothin' to hide," Derek sighed, then smirked. "On that anyway."

Spencer decided it was safer not to ask and focused on finishing the pamphlet, "I need you to pick out the format you want. This has to look like it's your interest and your style."

Derek groaned and sat up, "Good point, Pretty Boy."

He moved over behind Spencer and leaned over his shoulder.

Spencer tightened his grip on the mouse and tried not to shudder from the heat rolling off of Derek's body.

No wonder he doesn't have a regular comforter. He's a furnace…Breathe. You've done so well at not letting this distract you and not acting pathetically desperate. Just finish this and you'll be home in time for dinner. You have no reason to see Derek tomorrow, so you can relax. Finally.

Spencer tried to focus on the marginal relief he felt and ignored the tinge of disappointment.

He quickly typed the text into the format Derek picked out. He started running through psychological theories in chronological order when Derek reached over him to pull the sheet from the printer, allowing him to inhale waves of Derek's scent.

Derek's hand closed over the juncture between Spencer's neck and shoulder and squeezed, his blunt nails digging in and making Spencer gasp.

"Pretty Boy, I seem to have a hard time holdin' your attention," Derek murmured hotly in Spencer's ear. He felt the tremor that wracked Spencer's body in response. "You care to tell me what's so distracting?"

"N-no. I mean, nothing. Nothing's distracting me-AH!," Derek bit down hard on the lobe of Spencer's ear, making Spencer writhe in his chair.

"Then what did I say?"

"I uh…I don't know. I'm sorry!" Spencer yelped, panting as Derek's other hand laced through his hair and pulled his head back over the chair.

"How sorry?" Derek growled, glaring down at Spencer.

Spencer moaned when Derek's nails dug harder into his skin. He braced his feet on the apart on the floor to try and relieve some of the constriction his growing arousal was fighting. He gripped the edge of the desk to keep from touching himself, refusing to give in to his urges and humiliate himself again. Once again under Derek's less than…tender ministrations, Spencer's considerable vocabulary fled him.

"Re-really sorry. Really really—Ooooh…" Spencer arched up into Derek's touch as he dragged his nails over Spencer's chest beneath his shirt.

"Hn. Well, I was thanking you, Pretty Boy, but apparently you're not interested in verbal gratitude," his gaze lingered on Spencer's now evident arousal. "Jesus, you really are a little masochist, aren't you?"

Spencer whimpered as his already full-body flush deepened.

"Awww, embarrassed?" Derek tugged sharply, pulling Spencer to his feet by his hair and the grip on his shoulder.

He just sees this as another way to humiliate me…

Spencer sobbed and stumbled as Derek half dragged him to the bed, "Wha-what are you—"

"I'm 'thanking' you," Derek chuckled, releasing Spencer's hair to lift him easily and tossing him on the bed.

The face-first landing pushed the air from Spencer's lungs, his head hanging over the opposite side of the bed. He attempted to push himself up, only to be forced back down by Derek's hand on his back.

"Stay down, Pretty Boy," Derek snarled, putting all of his weight into his hand between Spencer's shoulder blades.

Spencer's hands fisted in the blanket beneath him as Derek's thigh slipped between his legs, pressing up against his ass. Derek's hips began to shift, pushing forward and grinding his thigh up between the small, round cheeks of Spencer's ass. Spencer could feel Derek's own hardened member pressing against him with every thrust. The feeling was more intimate and invasive than anything Spencer had ever felt. His moans were becoming panted whimpers and gasps, the friction from the blanket beneath him added to the force of Derek's thrusts and the weight of his body… Spencer's self-control fled.

"Derek…De-Derek, I'm gonna cum. Derek, I'm gonna cum!" Spencer felt a rumbling groan against his back before his hips were lifted swiftly from the bed.

Skilled fingers unbuttoned Spencer's slacks and pulled his throbbing shaft from his boxer shorts with no care for the over-stimulated flesh. And Spencer came. Hard. No hand block his screams this time. Instead, he felt one buried in his hair and the other fisting him until the last wave of his orgasm ended.

As he came back to himself, he managed to redo his pants before rolling to his side. From his kneeling position on the bed, Derek was reaching for a shirt on his floor, but Spencer's movement caught his eye. He paused and stared at Spencer's glazed eyes and flushed face for a moment. Then his customary smirk formed.

"Come here."

Spencer hesitated, but crawled over quickly when Derek's expression hardened.

"Better," Derek chuckled. His clean hand buried in Spencer's hair and tilted his head back just enough to force his eyes upward. Derek watched Spencer's neck convulse as he swallowed. He held the hand coated in cum in front of Spencer's face. "Lick."

A tremble shook Spencer's body and voice, "Bu-but…"

Derek's eyes narrowed and his grip tightened, the tug at Spencer's sore scalp making his lips part in a silent gasp. Derek used the opening to slip two fingers coated in Spencer's cum between his lips. He loomed over Spencer, taking in the sight of him on all fours on Derek's bed, head tilted back exposing the pale skin of his throat, sucking his own cum off of Derek's fingers.

It was the heat in Derek's eyes that made Spencer keep licking, sucking, slurping until Derek's whole hand was clean and damp with Spencer's saliva.

He responds to this. If I'm going to make him enjoy this too...I need to know what he wants. What he likes. And why...

As Derek pulled his hand away, Spencer's reddened lips formed a curious pout. "Do you enjoy watching me ingest my own cum?"

Derek froze. The look in his eyes went from heated to purely feral. "Reid…" he whispered in warning, clinging to his own tattered self-control.

"Is it a matter of cleanliness or an enactment of a personal fetish?" Spencer was oblivious.

He didn't have a chance to voice a protest this time before he landed on his back with Derek's body covering his own.

Derek's teeth were at Spencer's neck, hands tearing at his slacks again. He had Spencer's slacks and underwear almost down his thighs and Spencer was starting to struggle and panic-too fast, too fast, oh god-when he heard the front door open.

"Derek, honey, do we have company?"

Derek recalled Spencer slipping off his shoes at the front door and slowly lifted away from the boy beginning to hyperventilate beneath him.

Derek took in the frightened eyes and trembling body and a flood of guilt rose. Until he saw Spencer's hips lift to meet his as he pulled away. Derek's notice of it made Spencer blush brightly and look away, but it was all the assurance Derek needed. Spencer may have been scared, but scared was ok. Scared could be handled. So long as he was willing.

"Yeah, Ma. We'll be right down," Derek called calmly.

"Your lucky day, Pretty Boy. But that's alright. You can settle this tomorrow," he emphasized his words with a light press of his hips to Spencer's naked groin, making him arch. "Get dressed."

Derek stood up slid off the bed and grabbed the project Spencer had done for him, tucking it into his bag, then headed out into the hallway.

Spencer used the time he took getting dressed to marvel at Derek's ability to dissipate his arousal so quickly. Already, there was no sign of it. Pupils normal, no sheen of sweat, no tell-tale tenting, nothing. At all.

For it to fade that quickly…It can't have been that strong to start with. I need to find out how to make him want this too.

That thought was enough to chase any of Spencer's own lingering evidence. Derek came back in with another damp towel and a brush.

"Here," he handed Spencer the washcloth and surprised Spencer by running the brush through his hair himself.

"Umm thanks…" Spencer mumbled as he wiped his face and neck.

Derek simply shrugged and pushed him out of the room and into the hallway. "Come on. She'll want to meet you."

Spencer nodded numbly and stumbled down the stairs.

The woman in the kitchen was of average build and height, her skin the same warm brown as Derek's. She wore slacks and a bright button-down. Standard casual professional wear of a working mother.

"Hey, Ma, this is Spencer Reid. He's the kid who got bumped up a few grades."

Spencer shuffled his feet and waved nervously, "Hi, Ms. Morgan."

"Oh, yes! Derek's mentioned you a few times." Spencer was caught off guard when the woman walked right up and hugged him. "He said you would be around soon helping him with school work?"

He talks about me?

Spencer cleared his throat, "Yes, ma'am, that's the plan."

"Good, he needs to learn how to focus on school. I know you can do it, you just need to make learn to care about this work as much as you do your team," she rubbed a hand affectionately over the back of Derek's head.

He shrugged her off with a laugh, "Ma!"

"Oh hush, I'm your mother. Now, Spencer, you'll be staying for dinner."

Spencer blinked, realizing that though it was phrased as a question, Ms. Morgan clearly expected a yes. He quirked a smile for her and said quietly, "I would love to, ma'am. I just need to call home and let them know."

"So polite, just like Aaron," she smiled, pleased with her son's new choice of company. "Of course, go on."

Spencer headed over to the corner and called home, watching Derek set the table as him mother pulled food from the refrigerator. "Yeah, hey, Mom. I'm going to eat dinner here, if that's alright...Um, I don't know actually, I'll just call when I'm leaving. Yeah, love you too."

Spencer washed his hands and slid in at his setting. Derek's face showed one of his rare smiles. Spencer couldn't ignore the warmth growing in his chest as he laughed with Derek and his mother.

Why does it feel like that smile is for my benefit? I don't understand...


	7. The Charted Waters of Derek Morgan

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

Spencer couldn't really remember the last time he'd felt so refreshed after a night's sleep. Or the last time he'd been that aroused upon waking. It had taken much longer than usual to will away, thanks to a vaguely remembered dream about Derek in the locker room shower.

Don't think about that now!

He'd questioned himself a time or two about why he didn't just masturbate. Before it just didn't seem nearly as important as getting two more cups of coffee downed and a book read before he left for school. But now... the thought of doing it alone when he had the memory of Derek's body against him…It was just so unappealing.

He sighed and paused for the third time on his walk to school.

Think Proust, think Proust… You know what, just keep thinking Proust. And chapters 16-20 for history. That test is coming up and I have a personal best to beat. Go for finishing in 8 minutes this time.

Keeping up with that train of thought, Spencer actually managed to make it through the doors without another incident. Now he just had to make it through the rest of the day.

That didn't end up being too difficult for the first half. His classes were moderately engaging. Mr. Barnes even covered some of his favorite sections in European History. Those sections they never put in the books.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief as he settled into his favorite chair in the back corner of the library for lunch. He'd remembered to grab his lunch this morning so he didn't have to endure the torture of the lunch room, increasing his odds of not seeing Derek at all today. For once more of a relief than a disappointment.

He pulled out the notebook in his bag, reading over his quickly sketched chart as he bit into his turkey sandwich. He'd compiled the chart when he got home the night before. It detailed his own actions and behaviors and correlated them to Derek's reactions.

So far, Spencer felt confident concluding that Derek preferred eye contact during most sexual acts, as well as active participation from his partner. Despite the trend he had going with public displays of affection for his past partners, Derek didn't seem to have any interest at all in kissing Spencer.

Maybe that's just too personal for him to do with a male. Everything so far has simply been primal and need driven.

He responded favorably to submission, though, and so strongly to Spencer's obvious masochism that it bordered on pure violence.

He's definitely going to have to be the dominate in most every encounter…Not that I ever had a chance of changing that.

The thought brought a mocking smile to Spencer's lips.

But he hasn't shown any signs of actual sadistic tendencies. Even if he uses my masochism to his advantage, Derek seems very intent on making sure I'm experiencing pleasure with any pain he inflicts. It's odd, really…This chart seems to put a touch more emphasis on my pleasure than his. Yes, it's my payment…But if he's using me for his own physical needs… He seemed to know about my rather pathetic desperation for any contact at all with him when he initiated this arrangement. Why isn't he making it more about himself and his own climax and less about mine?

Spencer's smile faded, his brow knitting in confusion.

Actually, he specifically told me he'd 'paid in advance' for the work I did for him last night. And for that first payment, he made sure that he received his own gratification first. So why did he bother to 'thank' me afterwards in his room? The first...I really can't call that anything but an attack. His first attack in the locker room was most likely to force my participation through humiliation but last night...

It took a moment or two, but as Spencer turned the problem over in his mind, it dawned on him.

Derek is a healthy, very fit young man who's never had a shortage of sexual partners. One ejaculation a day can't possibly be enough for him. Not when he's probably used to receiving some form of gratification two or three times daily, whether through masturbation or a variation of intercourse. If that's the case, it must take a steady amount of stimulation to keep him aroused…That's why it faded so quickly yesterday even though he obviously wasn't done with me yet! Well, my sexual drive isn't nearly as strong as his apparently. I barely had the energy to walk home from just two ejaculations. Hmmm... It will be a challenge, but if I can concentrate the majority of my efforts on the acts and mannerisms that cause the strongest responses, I should be able to hold his attention for at least the rest of the semester. Unless some girl catches his eye…

He shook his head sharply and finished off his apple. He'd cross that bridge if he ever came to it. It wouldn't do any good to add to his already significant list of doubts and insecurities.

He'll still want someone to do his work. So unless she's a genius, there's little risk that he'll cut all association with me. That's all I can really afford to ask.

The lunch bell rang and Spencer tucked his notebook away. A quick check reassured him that by keeping his analysis clinical, he'd avoided any physical manifestation of his thoughts. Only three more classes and homeroom. He had quite a bit more research to complete if he wanted his next sexual interaction with Derek to show any significant improvement.

"Those were the longest three hours of my life," Spencer grouched, finally heading to his homeroom. He didn't even bother setting his bag down to check himself out to the library.

Spencer waved to JJ at the desk, but didn't stop to talk. So far he'd managed to escape Derek's promise of finishing what they'd started, but there was still half an hour left before he could guarantee it. He was safer in the back of the library than by the door.

I don't think I'm ready for...what he seemed interested in last night. I just... I'm not. He doesn't know my homeroom though, and there's only %0.03 chance of him coming by the library on a game day. Coach Rossi usually pulls the team out of homeroom to go over plays and make sure there's nothing effecting overall morale…

Spencer settled into his chair and opened up his notebook. Common sense had kicked in after lunch. There was no reason for him to be in such a rush. It was Friday. Derek didn't know his address, or phone number. He had no one to get them from. An entire weekend to himself. Again with that stupid twinge of disappointment.

It's one weekend. Two days of not seeing him will be good for me. All this stress is going to give me gray hair before my time… Alright, that's genetically unlikely. No one in my family developed gray hair until well into their will, however, increase my risk for a heart attack and-NOT NOW. Anyway, this will give me plenty of time to find better ways to give him what he likes.

He sighed and slumped back, allowing too-tense muscles to relax for the first time that day.

Okay. He likes it at least as rough as I do, which is good. And he purposely pushes the boundaries of my own naïveté, not so good. It's caught me off guard every time and limits my own creativity. When it comes to crude language, I can only parrot what Derek provides. He seems to enjoy it, but I think that's only because he's hearing the words from me. If I could actually vocalize what I want using his sexually aggressive phrases, without prompting, I suspect the reaction would be stronger. So I need to look into terminology someone my age would use. I do enjoy expanding my vocabulary…

Silence was broken with the slow creak of an overloaded bookshelf taking pressure. Spencer felt tension creeping back into his body and he sat up and looked around. Nothing. No one ever came to the library during homeroom.

Spencer stood and peeked around a shelf. He had to shake his head at his foolish paranoia. JJ stood on a step stool, replacing returned books. A stool that creaked, Spencer noted as she stepped down.

He curled back up in his chair, tucking his knees to his chest and balancing his notebook on top.

He prefers tongue to teeth in terms of oral sex, but his grip nearly ripped my hair out when I bit the crest of his ilium.

Spencer felt his body temperature climb, thinking of the feel of the ridge of Derek's hip in his teeth and the warmth of Derek's skin against his lips paired with the hand pulling at his hair.

Focus. Okay. More biting. I actually startled him several times when I was just touching him, indicating that he hasn't given previous partners time for curiosity and investigation. Or even himself. He just skips to the main course. That's a plus. The human body has many erogenous zones if one is patient enough to search…Or willing to read a book or two. In that, I'll have the upper hand. If I can find a way to get past his groin. That really has been his only focus during our encounters.

He jotted a few notes on his chart.

Cum. He makes quite a show of having me swallow my own…Breathe, Spencer, stay clinical.

He followed his own instructions and pushed the want away.

What I don't know, and may never know, is if he would prefer to ingest his own…

He thought back to the heat in Derek's eyes when he'd had Spencer on all fours on the bed in front of him, licking his own cum from Derek's fingers.

Grandma in her underwear, grandma in her underwear… Right. Alright, it may be safe to say that's one of his expressions of dominance. That's uh…that's fine. I can't say I have any objections to it. And I um…I'd prefer not to share his, not even with him. So yeah… I'm sure there's some way I can improve on that concept.

Spencer licked his lips and attempted to clear his very dry throat, trying to ignore how crazy it was to be possessive of Derek's cum.

All of this seems doable…but there are so many variables and so much room for error…

He sighed and let his notebook fall to the floor.

Sex is a lot of work, even in the 'foreplay' stages. Intercourse must be pretty amazing if people are willing to put this kind of effort in for multiple partners over time…

Spencer glanced at the clock on the far wall and rolled his eyes in disgust. He grabbed his notebook off the floor and dropped it in his bag.

I could have finished three books by now. But no, I spent thirty minutes thinking about theoretical derivations of fornication.

Spencer was still grumbling to himself when he got to his locker. The rest of the hall was clear, he'd made sure of that. He pulled out the books he would need for the weekend and turned to leave. Turned right into a very solid warm wall.

"Would you please refrain from sneaking up on me?" Spencer snapped, too annoyed already to filter himself. His eyes widened when brain caught up with his tongue and he stared resolutely at Derek's chest.

"No," Derek chuckled softly. "Not if it makes you so testy. This could be a lot of fun. But we'll play with that later. Come to the game tonight."

Spencer's stare became a glare, which he turned from Derek's chest to his face. The cocky attitude was finally starting to push Spencer's buttons.

"No."

Derek blinked, "Excuse me?"

"I said, no. I don't want to and you can't make me," Spencer flinched mentally at just how petulant that sounded.

Of course, it gave Derek all the opening he needed. He stepped closer, lifting one hand to grip the door of Spencer's locker, effectively trapping Spencer and making a partial shield between them and the protection offered to Spencer from the front office.

"Are you seriously going to start that here, Pretty Boy?" Derek's free hand ghosted up the side of Spencer's neck, making him shiver, to bury in his hair. "Really?"

Spencer gulped and glanced away, shuffling his feet.

"No, no…I wouldn't…I mean…No."

"Good. Come to the game tonight. Wait for me outside the locker room after. Tell your parents you'll be home late."

"How late? They'll uh…they'll want to know so they can pick me up if it's really late."

"No need. Tell them your new friend is walking you home," Derek tugged lightly at Spencer's hair, then released him and headed down the hall to his own locker.

So much for my weekend of freedom.


	8. Benched

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"Ran into the little genius today," Derek commented absently. He was sprawled across Hotch's floor playing a video game. Hotch was studying.

"I can only assume it wasn't in class. You're nowhere near his level," Hotch replied with a smirk.

"Fuck you. Nah, it was in the bathroom downstairs. Turns out, that's why the guys can never find him on the other floors."

"So what were you doing there?"

"I wasn't doing anything. Trish was pretty busy though," Derek chuckled.

"You really couldn't wait until after school? Do you have any self-control?"

"Don't need it. Not when there's a mouth ready and willing."

"You don't have an ounce of dignity to your name."

"Also unnecessary," Derek smiled shamelessly. "But that's not the point of this story."

"There was actually a point?"

"You're such an ass. And yes, there is. The kid walked in on us."

"You didn't even bother to use a stall? Exhibitionist," Hotch muttered, rolling his eyes. "So Reid ran out screaming and Trish tore you a new one."

"No. Stop interrupting and I'll tell you what happened," Derek glared. But he had Hotch's attention now.

"The kid didn't leave…And you didn't make him? Trish didn't make him?"

"He didn't even move. Stayed quiet when I told him to and watched the whole thing. And I wasn't about to let Trish stop, she'd barely gotten started. I just made sure she never turned around. Don't give me that look! I was doing the kid a favor. I would have loved a show like she was putting on when I was his age. And from the tent he was pitching, he didn't mind at all. I think he was in to her," Derek laughed out right.

"Of course you would have enjoyed it! As it is you're a fourteen year-old man-whore who can only loosely claim ties to his virginity. What makes you so sure she was the one holding his interest?"

"What?" Derek paused his game and turned to Hotch.

"I've seen him walk by her in the halls. He never pays attention to her, or any girl for that matter. You, though, you have his full attention any time you get near him. Besides, from what you're describing, all he saw was the back of her head. It would have been much easier for him to picture himself in her position. Not yours."

"Huh," Derek considered the scenario. "Now that you mention it… Once he realized what was happening, he never looked at her again. Just stared at me."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "Really? The whole time? So… You were watching him rather closely, too. While you got off."

"I…uh…I guess I was," Derek rolled over on to his back and stared at the ceiling. "He had some uh…distracting reactions."

He thought back to that afternoon. Leaning back against the wall, only halfway noticing the girl kneeling in front of him.

She had my dick in her mouth. How the fuck was he more interesting?

But Derek knew exactly how. It was the confusion in his eyes when he walked in. The innocence. The small gasp in response to Derek's. The nervous shifting and flushed cheeks. The complete rapture on his face as he watched Derek cum. For a nerdy kid, he was a bit enchanting.

And pretty. Very pretty.

"Right," Hotch sighed in exasperation. His eyes widened when Derek's words sank in, "Don't even think about it. It was hard enough getting the team to accept you being bi. Thankfully, you're basically 99.9% straight and maybe 0.1% bi after head trauma. And you have me to stick up for you. But I'm not sure how you chasing the figurative skirt of a twelve year-old kid would go over," Hotch said blandly. "Keep your mind out of the gutter and your hands to yourself, cradle robber."

"I wouldn't go after him now! Way too young," Derek pretended to blow the idea off for a few seconds. "But…what if I waited a couple years?"

"If you would wait until he's actually the age he's supposed to be in high school, I'd even be willing to help you. But for God's sake, try to stay out of his pants until he's old enough to drive! Have some decency."

Derek coughed sheepishly, "I'll work on that."

"Good. I don't suppose you'd deign to work on that paper now, would you? The coach can't keep making exceptions for you," Hotch lectured, turning back to his own studies.

"Ugh, fine, dad," Derek grouched.

"Shut up."

Derek stared blankly at his textbook for a few minutes until Hotch asked, "Are you going to tell the guys where to find him?"

Derek blinked, "That never even occurred to me. But…Nah, he's an easy enough target as it is. The poor kid deserves some kind of escape. And it's just cruel to keep him from pissing all day, you know?

Hotch's eyebrow rose again, "Are you developing a conscience?"

"Fuck you! I'm not that bad!"

"Of course you're not," his sarcasm was tangible. "But if that's your reasoning, we'd better keep them out of the library. Ms. Jareau can only offer him so much protection from behind her desk and everyone knows he hides out there. It's kind of obvious."

"We?" Derek asked, surprised at the offer.

"They're more likely to listen to me than you, and I can't really be associated with a team that drove a fellow student to suicide. Particularly not an underage genius."

"Good point. Okay, we keep them out of the library and away from the bathroom. We should probably make sure he's left alone to eat when he ends up in the cafeteria. Some of the guys would love nothing more than to put his face in his food every day. Kid's way too skinny to miss meals."

"…He really has caught your eye."

"Shut up."

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer sat his bag down beside his desk. He barely remembered the walk home, but home he was.

How is it I still have to do homework when I'm fairly certain my world is ending? Ugh. Because it's the only way for me to maintain a sense of normalcy.

He sighed and pulled out his organizer, reviewing his assignments one more time. He had them memorized already, but he was hoping that somehow the list had grown.

Only two three pages papers to write, and one of those is extra credit. The history study guide to finish…but I already did that. I do have three biology chapters to read by Wednesday. I'll do that. Fifty calculus problems for Tuesday's quiz.

Glancing at the clock, Spencer did a few mental calculations and groaned.

This will only take me an hour and half at most! It's 4 o'clock now and the game doesn't start until 7… And that first hour is nothing but cheerleading and dancing to celebrate the end of the football season. Wait…

His head dropped to his desk.

Football season is over. Derek doesn't have practice anymore. He'll never have to stay after school.

Spencer flushed, stood up, sat down, stood up, and sat right back down again. His fingers were twitching and his poor overloaded brain had no idea how to cope with his warring emotions. Was he supposed to be excited or horrified that there was nothing to interfere with Derek taking him home every day now? They still had a whole semester left after Christmas! And another year! A-whole-nother year!

Okay, maybe I do need to hope he finds a girlfriend. I can't take this every day. I-I'll shut down. My body will literally collapse from the stress. I'm not-I can't-It's a-OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod-I'mnotbreathingI'mnotbreathing-Breathe,SpencerBreathe,Spencer-slowerbreaths,slowerbreaths-OHGOD. Slow breaths…It'll be alright…Slow, steady breaths, Spencer. One step at a time. Finish the homework. Then do a bit of research for your notes. What can you pick up the fastest? Words. Look up the vernacular he's in to. Breathe...Okay, better. No, wait. Let the lightheaded feeling pass…

He finally resorted to putting his head between his knees.

Much better. Oh, hey there's a shirt under my bed. How'd that get there?

Once the shirt was neatly tucked away, Spencer sat down to his homework.

I need to reassess my abilities. That only took an hour. On to research, I guess.

At this point, Spencer typically pulled out his anatomy and psychology books, then opened up the few reliable sites he'd found online. For the most part he had to shake his head at what the porn industry produced, but he had managed to find a few clips that had provided some useful tips. Mostly, he relied on magazine articles with ideas that he cross referenced with his books. He'd encountered the same issue with the articles as he'd found in porn, just not nearly as often.

It's amazing how many articles suggest over-stimulating a partner. Statistically speaking, only a small percentage of sexually active individuals enjoy that sensation since it tends to lend itself towards pain rather than pleasure.

But he didn't need to go through all that this time. He just needed a dictionary. He'd already read the Oxford English Dictionary and Webster's, so he knew they didn't have what he needed. Spencer decided to try looking in one that he'd heard of at school. He didn't really understand the term, but it would most likely make more sense after visiting the site. He opened up a page and typed 'urban dictionary' into the search bar.

One hour later he was cursing his eidetic memory to hell and back, wishing he could forget over half the things he'd read. What disturbed him the most was that despite the disgusting names—Tea bagging? Really?—some things he'd learned…he really wanted to try.

…Like um, well…tea bagging… Thankfully, the description is vulgar enough without its "urban" nickname.

Spencer shuddered as his mind produced the image of his own half-naked body sprawled on the floor of Derek's bedroom. The need too strong to make it to the bed. Derek's muscled thighs straddling his head. Kneeling so that his arms were pinned under Derek's shins, hands grasping uselessly at the carpet. One callused hand fisted in Spencer's hair to keep his neck arched, his mouth open and filled to gagging with Derek's balls—It really does increase the sexual nature of the act to refer to them as "balls" rather than testicles… Language has such strange nuances—inhaling the scent of him with every desperate breath. The other fisting Derek's engorged cock—Again, the literary flavor is completely different when anatomical terms are forgone for lewd replacements…

DAMN IT WHY CAN'T I COMPLETE A FANTASY WITHOUT MY OWN RUNNING COMMENTARY?

He sighed in resignation and ran algorithms until his arousal faded. Dinner time. Spencer focused as best he could, trying not to concern his parents. For the most part, it was a success. And it helped eat up the last hour before the game.

Spencer grabbed his messenger bag—I refuse to sit through this without a few books to read—and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror by the door. Slacks, button down, sweater vest…Very over-dressed for a football game. There's no way he would last through three hours without getting the—What's the phrase?—shit kicked out of him.

Lose the sweater vest then. Button down…That'll have to stay. I don't own t-shirts. Regular sweater would still stand out. I can um… Untuck it. I have a couple pairs of jeans. It's pretty chilly tonight, so something will have to replace the vest.

He glanced through his closet, tugging off his slacks and grabbing one of his few pairs of jeans. A blue wind breaker with a light lining would have to do.

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" Spencer called, tugging on his sneakers.

His mother glanced back over the couch in the living room where she and his father were watching a documentary on Shakespearian literature. "Do you want us to wait up, Spencer?"

"Um…No, that's alright, I honestly don't know what time we'll be getting back," Spencer could almost picture the looks on his parents faces if he were to stumble through the doorway, blushing and stammering like an idiot with Derek behind him. His mother would see right through him. Reading Spencer was one of the many things she excelled at.

"Alright. Have fun and be safe on your way home."

"Of course, Mom. Good night," he kissed her cheek and braced himself for the three hours of tedium and psychological torture to come.

The celebration was as bad as he thought it would be. More squeaky chants and girls in skimpy outfits. He had, however, gathered some interesting data while observing the behavior of the student body in response to the cheers.

If the decibel of the students' screams after a cheer or dance can be used as a marker, then they clearly favor any cheer containing crass suggestions about the other team over morale boosters. And the closer the dance team comes to fornicating on the field, the more approval they receive from the audience.

Spencer shook his head. He would probably have to get a doctorate in psychology before he fully understood the interactions of high school students.

The other team and its supporters had started arriving shortly after the dance team finished. Spencer used that as an opportunity to slip over to the opposing team's bleachers. He wouldn't be recognized there and would be safe from any harassment by his peer group.

Stewart High was losing. Pathetically. They'd been over twenty-one points behind when Spencer started the first volume of Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu. By the time he finished volume three, they were fifty-four points behind. Specifically, fifty-four to nothing. Their team was below par certainly, but they always scored at least once before halftime. Aaron and Coach Rossi saw to that.

Typically, only a few of their players were forces on the field: Derek, Aaron, and four others Spencer didn't know. But they relied on one another to hold that force together and Derek wasn't holding up his end. He couldn't seem to keep his eye on the field, much less the ball. When the team called in for huddles, Derek was scanning the crowd.

What is he looking for? Coach Rossi is obviously furious with him and he's barely even paying attention to that! Frankly, they should just pull him out…but it's not like any of the other players could do any better.

By halftime, Spencer couldn't take it anymore. Maybe he'd never been to a football game before to observe it, but he knew for a fact—A statistically supported fact—that Derek could do much better than this. And always had—Probably why Rossi hasn't pulled him yet.

This was possibly the worst time for Spencer to venture back into hostile territory with all the students milling about, but it was just getting ridiculous. He pushed through the downward flow of the crowd on the walkway, all headed for the concession stands, and found himself exactly where he wanted to be after an unnecessarily forceful set of shoves from a pair of shirtless, painted students. Of course, he hadn't really been aiming to have his torso practically doubled-over the jagged points of the fence that lined the large concrete slab holding the home bleachers, but it was all a means to an end. At least that was how he tried to reason it as he gingerly checked for blood.

**Certainly didn't take them long to recognize me… I'm glad they didn't just throw me over it head first. I guess that would be rather difficult to explain, though.

Assured that the metal hadn't broken skin, Spencer began checking the jerseys for Derek's number and found him by the cooler still catching riot act from Rossi. For Rossi, that was a relative term. He never went for the borderline abusive approach some coaches used. He was more like a master manipulator from what Spencer could tell. So to say that his voice was raised really meant something.

Rossi took about five more minutes to wind down and storm off, leaving a sullen Derek behind.

Spencer inched closer, checking carefully for any potential assailants. When he was close enough he called Derek's name to get his attention.

Brushing aside his confusion at Derek's obvious surprise, "What exactly has you—"

"Have you been here this whole fucking time?"

Spencer couldn't tell if Derek was angry or shocked. "Well, yes I—"

"Where?"

Definitely angry. Why…Oh!

"Were you looking for me? Is that why you haven't—"

"Where. Were. You?"

"I-I'm uh… sitting on Greenwood's side," Spencer tugged at his hair.

The anger in Derek's eyes slid to confusion. "Why are you over there?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the students in our school don't really accept—UGH!" Another hard shove from one of the painted boys headed back to the bleachers pushed him into the fence again.

Spencer was still catching his breath when a hand wrapped around his arm. Spencer flinched and braced himself.

"Fuck, it's just me, Pretty Boy. Come on, you're sitting down on the field."

Distracted by the mixed emotion in Derek's voice, Spencer relaxed enough to let himself be pulled down the walkway.

"I don't think Coach Rossi allows this. Besides, I left my bag on Greenwood's side. I was fine over there so I'll just go back…" Spencer trailed off at the look Derek gave him.

"I want you over here. Go get your stuff, I'll talk to Rossi." Derek released him with a gentle push. "Go."

"Um…O-okay." Spencer lowered his head and followed the walkway around to the opposing bleachers and grabbed his bag.

I am so unbelievably confused right now. Was he really that distracted just because he thought I didn't show up to watch his game? Why? It's not like I've been to any of the others.

He wound back through the growing crowd and over to the bleachers, where Derek appeared to be arguing with Rossi. Spencer's steps slowed as he approached the pair. He could hear bits and pieces of the argument now.

"Why should I be doing you any favors when you're obviously not invested in this team tonight?"

This prompted Derek to start into his defense of the situation. It wasn't necessary. The two turned to face Spencer just in time to watch him land flat on his back from a sharp tug to his messenger bag. Spencer barely had time to register the foot coming towards his face before Derek was standing over him with the boy's shirt gripped in his fist.

Rossi wasn't far behind. He pulled the two apart and dragged the boy off to the front gate, calling back, "The kid can sit on the bench."

They would never be able to prove Spencer's assailant had done anything intentionally, too many people milling about. Spencer was so used to it by now, it wasn't a battle he was willing to fight anyway.

Derek pulled Spencer to his feet and directed him to the benches with a hand in the middle of his back.

"Sit here," was all Derek said before leaving again to talk to Rossi.

Spencer gulped and sat slowly on the edge of the bench, keeping his eyes on the ground. When he finally looked up, he was greeted by the collective stares of the football team. Spencer fought and lost to full body shakes.

This was a terrible idea I should have stayed home tonight. I should have—What the hell?

Mindless Drone 3 from the locker room—Was that really only two days ago?—was attempting to hand Spencer a water bottle. A quick mental assessment ruled out the odds of an explosive or poison, so Spencer reached out tentatively and took it.

"Um…Thanks…" He really didn't want to drink after these guys.

Remarkably, Mindless Drone 2—I really need to find out their names—recognized his hesitation for what it was. "Like this," he showed Spencer how to tilt his head and the bottle so that his lips wouldn't have to come in contact with anything.

Spencer offered a half-smile of thanks and mimicked him.

"You've got grass…Well, everywhere," Mindless Drone 3 commented.

"Oh…" Spencer tried to pull most of the grass from his hair, craning his neck to spot the worst areas on his back.

"Here," Mindless Drone 1 and two other team members stepped forward to help brush Spencer off, much to Spencer's embarrassment.

I feel like a two year-old.

Derek and Rossi returned to this rather awkward scene. They looked to Aaron, who shrugged.

Apparently, they are all perfectly fine with this. Why in the world... They know. That's why this is fine. Every member of this team, excluding Rossi, knows why Derek's picked up an interest in me. In fact, it was their idea. My largest group of tormentors is gone… I'm beginning to think this arrangement is going to have more incentive for me than for Derek.

Rossi turned to Spencer, "Any damage, Reid?"

Spencer cleared his throat and disguised his nervous hair-tugging with grass removal. "No, sir," Spencer blushed brightly when Derek shooed his hands away and took care of the rest of the grass in his hair. "I-I'm fine."

"Good…" Rossi observed the two with raised eyebrows.

Scratch that. The WHOLE team knows.

He could feel his blush getting brighter.

The referees returned to the field and the board signaled the end of half time.

"I'm going to trust that we have your full attention now, Morgan?" Rossi asked, voice devoid of any inflection.

"100%, Coach," Derek said, completely unashamed.

"Good, then get your ass on the field."

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"Morgan, we've got it!"

That was always cause for concern. When Mat, Adam, and Travis put their head's together, the plan was sure to end in perversion or disaster.

"Got what exactly?"

"We know how you're going to pass this year, and it's a win-win for you."

Curiosity won over dread. Hotch had warned him they'd come up with something. Something that involved the deal they'd made over the pretty little genius Derek's freshman year.

"Care to share with the rest of the group?"

"The boy genius is going to do it for you!"

Somehow that didn't seem likely. He hadn't made a point of getting on the kid's good side.

"I take it there's some reason he's going to want to do that?"

"The kid's about as straight as a corkscrew and he's got it bad for you. You're—how does Hotch put it—0.1% bi? Your nickname kinda hints that you wouldn't be opposed to him…"

"Sex in return for doing my work. You guys are crazy. Boy genius hasn't said two words to me since freshman year. I can't deny that I'm gorgeous," he flashed a cocky grin in answer to the jeers and laughs of his teammates, "but the kid is not interested enough to settle for that. And he doesn't seem like the type to settle for money."

"Tell you what," Adam reasoned, "we'll prove it to you."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Tomorrow. We'll prove he's got more than enough interest by the end of the day tomorrow."

This was sure to be interesting. And potentially awful.

… … … End Flashback … … …


	9. Gather the Data, Support the Hypothesis

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Holy fuck…

They'd tied Pretty Boy to the flag pole like an offering. He'd seen Derek. He hadn't looked away fast enough for Derek not to notice.

A laugh of disbelief climbed out of Derek's lips. Pretty Boy was definitely interested. And absolutely perfect. Pale, lithe, long…

I really should let him down...

Derek took a step forward, catching sight of the large clock hanging in the school entrance.

Shit! Too late, I have to get to practice… Someone else will let him down. Kid's not gonna know what hit him.

He took off to the field with plans to run off the sudden sexual tension.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer alternated between Proust and observing the game. Their teamwork, and Derek's performance, improved noticeably. There was no miraculous win, but Stewart only ended up losing by twelve points.

He tried to ignore the clinginess of the cheerleaders at the end of the game, reminding himself that Derek was a notorious flirt and that would never change. He'd encouraged them for years, so they had no reason to think he was off limits.

Because he's not. We're not even in a real relationship, much less a monogamous one. Derek can flirt with whoever he wants and so can I if the desire strikes me.

He rolled his eyes at the likelihood of that.

All the same, he was thankful when the cheerleaders cleared out and the team headed down the locker room. Derek didn't speak to him directly on the walk, but acknowledged him with casual brushes and glances.

Spencer was grateful for the space. Sitting on the bench for the last half had been nerve-wracking to say the least. The guys who weren't on the field tried to make it slightly less uncomfortable, but eventually realized that allowing Spencer to adjust to the change in silence would be easier. Walking in a group with them needed the same treatment.

He waited quietly outside the locker room, too scared to go in, watching players exit in twos and threes to head home. They all nodded silent goodbyes.

This is so strange…

Spencer glanced at his watch, 10:45 pm. Derek finally came out with Aaron and Coach Rossi about five minutes later. Aaron nodded at Spencer and bid Rossi and Derek a good night. Rossi headed down the hall to his office with a farewell to the three of them. Derek and Spencer were silent until both were out of sight.

Spencer shifted anxiously, waiting for Derek to say something. Anything.

"Come on, Pretty Boy. I'll walk you home."

Spencer jolted. That was not what he expected. The scenario had played out in every possible derivation of what Derek had wanted the night before and none of them had ended in…nothing. Cue the disappointment. Much more than normal, to Spencer's consternation.

"Okay…"

They headed out the front doors and were partway out of the front parking lot when it started to sprinkle. At the sidewalk, it turned into a light rain. Half a block, a steady rain. End of the first block, a down pour.

"Fuck it, your house is too far and I'm not walking back in this."

Derek grabbed Spencer's wrist and took the turn that lead to his own house, much closer than Spencer remembered.

By the time they reached the shelter of Derek's porch, both were soaked to the bone and shivering in the chilly air. Pulling off his jacket and wringing it out, Spencer thought he would only get colder. He would have, but Derek had stripped off his jacket as well with a similar goal.

Spencer felt heat rising in his face and…elsewhere at the sight of Derek dripping wet in a white t-shirt and jeans. It clung to the muscles in his back, highlighting their movements as he twisted his jacket. Spencer's lips parted in a silent gasp. In removing his jacket, Derek had inadvertently pulled up the hem of his shirt on one side, revealing a section of warm brown skin and a defined hipbone. Spencer's mouth watered to taste that skin again. He licked his lips and let his jacket fall from his fingertips.

Derek turned at the sound and looked from the dropped clothing to Spencer's slowly glazing eyes. From there to his flushed cheeks, parted lips, dripping hair, clinging shirt, and…jeans. No slacks, no vest, no undershirt. For Spencer, that was practically naked.

Derek swallowed, attempting to wet a suddenly dry throat.

"When's your birthday?" Derek gritted out, the hand holding his jacket fisting tightly.

Spencer's poor, over-heated brain couldn't make the jump. "W-what?"

Derek reached out and grabbed Spencer's shirt by the collar, pulling him forward.

"Your birthday, Pretty Boy. How old are you right now?" Derek asked again, clenching his jaw.

"J-January uh…January…" This is a very simple question! "I'm fourteen! Fifteen on January 9th," Spencer finally managed, stumbling when Derek released him and stepped away.

"Take off your shoes and go to my room. I'll get us some towels and try to find clothes that won't fall off of you."

He's shivering pretty hard. I don't think it's that cold…

Derek, fighting full-body tremors, had to try twice to get the door unlocked. He kicked off his shoes and headed to the first floor bathroom to get extra towels. Spencer did his best not to drip everywhere on the way up the stairs.

He didn't bother turning on the light in Derek's room, the hall light was enough. He was unbuttoning his shirt, trying to figure out where to hang it, when Derek returned. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Spencer, who could see him starting to shake again.

Spencer stepped forward, "Are you that cold?"

"I'm not cold! Stay over there," Derek snapped throwing Spencer a towel and turning away. He rummaged in a dresser drawer and pulled out a white t-shirt and light-weight pajama pants. He tossed those on the bed without turning around. "Those should fit you well enough for tonight."

Spencer stayed on his side of the bed, stripping out of sopping wet jeans and hurriedly drying off his legs to pull on the pants. He couldn't help but watch when Derek pulled his own shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

The light from the hall glinting off the water droplets on Derek's bare skin. Spencer stared as Derek dried his torso off, taking so long with the task that it started to seem like he was avoiding stripping completely. When he started to reach for a clean t-shirt, Spencer gave in to his desire to touch. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

He crawled silently over the bed and slipped off the edge, not understanding why Derek had paused in redressing to cling to the edge of his dresser, but grateful for the added time. Spencer eased up behind Derek, as close as he dared, then gave into the urge to feel the muscle cording over Derek's shoulders. He paused only briefly before letting both hand rise and rest against the slight protrusions of Derek's scapulae.

Spencer wasn't sure what reaction to expect, so he was pleased when Derek didn't pull away immediately. The tension in the muscles under his hands increased, but Derek showed no sign of moving. Spencer didn't have any real idea of what he was doing, resorting to trusting his desires and findings from his chart. Desire to taste Derek's skin, findings indicating he should do it with a mix of teeth and tongue.

"Pretty Boy, I told you to st—Ah!" Derek jerked forward at the feeling of teeth sinking into his shoulder blade. He pushed off the dresser, knocking Spencer back onto the bed, and spun around. "What the hell was that?"

Spencer watched the tremors of Derek's body and took note of it. It was interesting how much more comfortable he felt being the one to initiate contact. Enough so to think, more than he could say for every other encounter.

Not shaking from the cold. Shaking from want. He's holding back right now. Why? Time to see if my hypothesis about vocalization was right.

Spencer lifted his eyes to Derek's face. He licked his lips and pushed up off the bed, moving to stand in front of Derek, "I wanted to taste you again." He made a show of hesitating, then lifted one hand to hover over Derek's hip brushing lightly with his fingertips. "Can I…please?"

Derek's body gave a seemingly involuntary shudder and his eyes closed tightly. A deep breath tempted Spencer to lean in before receiving permission. He held back, needing to hear the pitch of Derek's voice to judge just how successful the innocent request was. He'd planned on using pupil dilation, but Derek hadn't opened his eyes yet. He also didn't appear to want to answer. Spencer lowered his hand to settle at Derek's waist and brushed his thumb over the crest of bone. "Please, Derek," he whispered, letting his breath ghost across the skin of Derek's chest.

"Fuck," Derek groaned. Spencer watched the shaking subside as one of Derek's hands slid up over his neck and to bury in Spencer's hair.

Self-control caves to what he perceives as my submission. And—

Thoughts stuttered to a halt when Derek tugged at his hair and growled, "Then do it." He started to push Spencer down.

No! Focus. He has to enjoy this as more than just a sexual release. Think think think. Vocalize what you want…

"Everywhere. I want to lick the sweat from your skin before I taste your cum," the words ended in a whimper as Spencer visualized his own request.

Closed eyes flew open.

Success. His pupils are completely dilated. He won't say no, but he probably won't say yes either. Just take.

Spencer pressed forward, and was proven correct. Derek didn't push him away. He backed into the dresser and let his free hand grip the edge for support when Spencer lowered his lips to Derek's chest.

Gently, no teeth yet. Light brushes to increase sensitivity.

He alternated languid licks and soft kisses. Avoiding the obvious target of nipples in favor of the depressions at Derek's clavicles. He took his time in the areas that drew gasps, cataloging locations and responses for future reference.

Shivering again, sensation this time instead of control. Short of breath. Safe for teeth.

Spencer wanted desperately to let go of the clinical aspect, but judging from the uncertain movements of Derek's hand on his back this whole experience was new to him as well.

He's not going to know what to ask for if I don't find it now, and I doubt he'll take the time to study it later. He truly is all about the end, no thought for the means.

So Spencer kept track, noting the arch when his nails scratched lightly over the rib cage, the flinch when they dug in. The moan at the nips across his pectorals, the grimace at a hard bite.

Just mild sadism then, no trace of masochism…

Spencer was surprised to find that pleased him. This exploring was fun, especially since Derek clearly enjoyed it, but he found that it wasn't nearly as much of a turn on for him as the weight of a heavy hand and heated orders. His own arousal was only half formed. Derek was hardening, too, but slowly. This time there was no rush to a finish line.

Spencer covered every inch of skin of Derek's torso, taking his time with the space just above his jeans. His hips bore the only visible bites marks so far. Derek was panting heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat before Spencer finally turned attention to the harden flesh of his nipples.

Love that his sweat tastes so much like his scent... Almost wish he hadn't showered after the game...

He managed one slow lick across the nub. Then found himself on his back on the bed, trapped between Derek's thighs.

"You're done," he growled heatedly into Spencer's ear, one hand clapping onto Spencer's waist to keep his hips from lifting. His pinned one of Spencer's wrists to the bed, grip tight enough to bruise.

A hard bite to his ear brought him bowing up off the bed, fighting Derek's hold and mewling. Derek's head lifted, lips parted and Spencer couldn't help but lift his in answer. Derek caught on and backed off, placing a series of punishing bites down Spencer's chest, holding eye contact all the while. He paused to lick gently at the red marks from the fence wire.

Right, n-no…Oh…that's…ah…no kissing.

True to his nature, Spencer was painfully hard already. He couldn't see past Derek's body, but he was certain there would be a stain from pre-cum on his pants. When Derek paused at Spencer's hips and sank his teeth deep enough to bruise immediately, Spencer nearly lost it. He had to muffle his cries with his free hand, the other preoccupied in clinging to the blanket for dear life.

Derek lapped gently at the purpling mark and smirked.

"Pay back's a bitch," he chuckled against the pale skin.

Spencer whined in answer, his eyes and turning his head away. He gasped when he felt Derek's shirtless body slide over his own, aligning their hips.

"Look at me, Pretty Boy," Derek's arousal deepening his voice.

Spencer's eyelids parted and glanced up sideways through his long lashes. Derek reached down and grabbed his chin tightly, turning his head forward.

"What was it you asked for?" Derek murmured, using the grip to tilt Spencer's head back.

"I-I wanted to taste you. Before making you cum," Spencer was proud he only stuttered once under the circumstances.

"And have you tasted your fill?" Derek was moving now, releasing his own dripping cock from his jeans.

Spencer fought to breathe properly and gather his thoughts. He wanted…What had he wanted…

"N-Ah!" Derek's hand had moved from Spencer's chin to his hair, directing his head further back—Focus! "No!"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "No? What more did you want?"

Spencer attempted to swallow, blushing furiously now.

Just say it, Spencer!

"I-I uh…Your balls, I want to taste them. I want to suck them until you cum across your stomach and chest, then lick you clean."

…That was more graphic than intended.

But had exactly the response Spencer was hoping for. Derek's expression darkened, his grip in Spencer's hair tightened further, making Spencer mewl.

"When did my Pretty Boy get such a filthy mouth?" The predatory grin that Spencer was growing to love emerged. "Well, I won't be the one to deny you."

Spencer wasn't sure how to work past the obstacle of Derek's jeans in this position, but apparently Derek had a plan for that. He shifted and leaned backwards, falling onto the pillows at the head of the bed. The sudden movement jerk Spencer sideways by his hair, forcing him to bite his lower lip to contain a yelp.

I'll have to cut my hair at this rate…

Derek's hips lifted, and he motioned for Spencer to pull them off. Gulping, he complied, trying not to stare too hungrily at the erect cock before him. He lifted a hand to touch, but nerves were setting in. From this position, Derek could watch Spencer's every move.

Derek lost a battle with impatience and forced Spencer down, level with the tight sacs Spencer wanted. "You know better than to tease."

Quivering with anticipation, Spencer leaned forward and licked slowly, drawing a soft groan from Derek. Spencer's memories instantly related the flavor to sucking Derek's cock, without the bitterness. Delighted, Spencer opened his jaw as wide as possible and sucked in as much of the pair as he could, inhaling Derek's scent to accompany the taste. His hand reached up to wrap around Derek's cock, at which Derek hips jerked violently off the bed, forcing Spencer back to keep from scraping the sensitive organs in his mouth with his teeth. His own arousal twitched in response to the moans Derek was attempting to muffle.

With this as well, Spencer took his time, alternating sucking and licking based on Derek's sounds and movements, depriving Derek's cock of any further attention. When the thrashing became too urgent, Spencer would lick gently until Derek calmed and came back from the edge, then the teasing suction would begin again.

Finally, Derek gave in to the torment, "Fuck, Reid, let me cum!"

It would have been a scream if the door hadn't been wide open and his mother weren't home. As it was, the command came out a harsh whisper.

Pleased with himself, Spencer consented eagerly, sucking in earnest and working his hand rapidly over Derek's arousal, now coated in pre-cum.

Derek clamped one hand over his mouth to muffle his shout and scratched at Spencer's reddening scalp when he came, spurting across his stomach and chest just as Spencer had predicted.

He was still drifting in the aftershocks when he felt his hand being disentangled from Spencer's hair and a slender body shifting to straddle his thigh, careful to avoid his slackening erection. He was almost prepared for the light licks against his skin that prompted him to open his eyes. What caught him off guard was how thoroughly fucked Spencer looked: hair tangled, cheeks deep red, eyes glazed and pupils dilated, lips parted, red, and wet… And hard. He was still hard. Spencer hadn't gotten off yet.

Spencer was so immersed in the happiness of having played out one of his fantasies so perfectly, he'd forgotten about his own release for the moment. The feeling of hands cupping his ass as he cleaned the last trace of cum from Derek's chest startled him into a sitting position. Derek's smirk confused him…until he felt the thigh he was straddling push up against his straining erection. He clapped both hands over his mouth to hold back his moan. The hands gripping his ass pulled him forward in time with the pressure of Derek's leg. A few solid thrusts, grinding Spencer's erection through the thin fabric of his pajamas against the hot skin of Derek's thigh, and Spencer came. He slumped forward onto Derek's chest, giving Derek an excellent view of Spencer's raw scalp.

He frowned and lifted one hand to part tangled locks for a closer look. Spencer flinched, and shifted to move off of Derek's chest.

A hand on his back kept him in place, "Hold still. I'm just making sure I didn't draw blood or anything."

Spencer relaxed slightly, then even further when questing fingers began a gentle massage over the abused skin. Several minutes later, he decided that a human could in fact melt from pleasure and he'd done just that on top of Derek. The older boy could have whatever he wanted, so long as he kept petting Spencer.

In order for Spencer to uphold that unspoken promise, though, he needed to listen to Derek. Which he should have been doing then, because Derek was speaking.

"…Okay?"

Crap. He finished his sentence already.

Spencer lifted his head slightly, whimpering when the wonderful touches stopped.

"Ummm…"

Derek laughed softly, resuming small circles at the base of Spencer's neck. "You didn't hear any of that did you?"

Spencer blushed and shook his head slightly, arching into the touch.

Derek held up a cordless phone. "Call your parents and leave a message saying you'll be home in the morning."

"Oh, right…" Spencer was glad Derek had the presence of mind to remember that. He called and left a message assuring them of his safety and blaming the rain for stopping at his friend's halfway.

"Now get off of me," Derek softened the order with a teasing tone. He lifted Spencer to one side and grabbed boxers from under one pillow, pulling them on quickly. Spencer fidgeted shyly, watching Derek gather their clothes from around the room and leave. Quiet shuffles and clanks through the wall told Spencer he was hanging up their wet clothes in the bathroom. Running water… Then Derek was back and waving Spencer out.

"Go clean up, I'll see if I can't find another pair of pants that will fit you."

Spencer slipped out and found a wash cloth to clean himself up a bit.

He came back to a slightly larger pair of pants on the corner of the bed and Derek already under the sheets. He slid into the pajamas and started to back out of the room, wondering if there was an extra blanket in the living room for him to sleep on the couch.

"Where the hell are you going?" Derek rose up on one elbow.

"I was uh…I was going to sleep on the c-couch…"

Derek stared at him silently, waiting for him to recognize some obvious hint.

I don't understand…

With a sigh of exasperation, Derek finally gave up. "Get your ass over here, Pretty Boy. You aren't sleeping on the fucking couch."

Oh…oh!

Spencer almost tripped in his haste to get to the other side—My side—of the bed. Derek lifted the covers and Spencer slid in happily. He turned to face the opposite wall, certain that if he faced Derek he'd never let himself calm down enough to fall asleep. A quiet chuckle behind him preceded the arm that looped around his waist and tugged him back, pressing the full length of his body against Derek. Panic.

"Uh-um, Derek," he squeaked.

"Hush, Reid, I'm tired."

"But I-I uh…I don't know if I c-can sleep like this," Spencer mumbled.

Derek propped himself up and stared down at Spencer for a moment.

"Turn and face me."

Spencer was curious enough not to hesitate, simply adjusting his pillow and shifting onto his left side.

"Now wha—Mmmm…" Spencer decided it was best to shut up and just enjoy the hand that returned to stroke from the top of his scalp to the base of his neck.

"Think you can sleep now, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer was fairly certain he made some sort of affirmative noise before falling asleep, because Derek's hand was still running through his hair when Spencer slipped into oblivion a few minutes later, curled into Derek's chest.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Faster than I thought. Wasn't supposed to make himself so available. I'm not ready for this. Want him too much. He has to say yes. Fuck, I don't know if I can let him go even if he says no…

"Do I have your attention now, Pretty Boy?" Derek tightened his grip and jerked Spencer's head further back, forcing Spencer to look straight up at him. "Are you ready to hear my proposition?"

Moan means yes? Sure, why not?

"Good boy," Derek smirked and released Spencer's hair, letting him slump back against the lockers.

Have to let him go. Fuck, I can't keep looking at his face. Want to kiss him.

Derek had to make it more difficult to get at Spencer or he was going to lose it. He moved back into a crouch.

What is he staring at…Oh. My towel. I should have put on clothes. Pretend not to notice. He has to think I'm in control.

"I have a problem, Pretty Boy." Derek spoke casually, belying the situation. "For some reason, the coach actually cares about my work ethic off the field. He thinks it could be better. That may have something to do with the fact that I haven't turned in a shred of homework this semester, but that's not the point. The point is I could do it, but I don't have to. You're going to do it for me."

"Why in the world would I-"

Convince him before he can say no. Don't let him say no…

Spencer yelped as Derek's hand tangled in his hair again, this time yanking him off the bench and on to his knees on the floor.

He's so fucking tiny, he shouldn't be this easy to move.

Derek leaned close and spoke harshly in Spencer's ear, "Let me finish, Pretty Boy."

He felt Spencer shiver under the treatment.

Masochist? I can't be that lucky…

"There's my boy. You're going to do this. Because," Derek snapped forward onto his knees—Need to touch. Fuck, I need him under me—pressing his body flush to Spencer's and forcing his thigh roughly between Spencer's legs and ripping a moan from the boy's throat, "I've had your attention all along, haven't I, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer sobbed as Derek pulled harder, forcing Spencer to bow backwards over the bench, the edge grinding painfully into his back.

He's seriously turned on by this. I am that lucky. There's no way I can let him say no to this. How though…Make him want more. Give him a taste and let him know there'll be more.

"That stunt at the flagpole this afternoon was for my benefit. The team tried to convince me that I wouldn't have to work very hard to get your agreement, but I didn't believe them until I got a good look at you this afternoon. If you were trying to hide that hard-on, it wasn't working." Derek's smirk grew a bit. "And now for what you'll get out of this arrangement."

Derek loomed over Spencer, making him shudder as the friction against his groin increased, and murmured into his ear, "I'm a healthy teenage boy with needs. You can't imagine the chaos it would cause in my social circle if I actually picked one of the girls that cling to me. Which is why you will be the outlet for those needs, won't you, Pretty Boy?"

He's close, I can tell. I wonder if…

Derek punctuated the question with a hard bite on the shell of Spencer's ear. And that was it for Spencer's tenuous grip on his orgasm. He clawed at Derek's shoulders and ground shamelessly against his thigh as he came in his gym shorts.

Oh my god… Don't fuck him, don't fuck him… You have to wait. Sixteen. He has to be sixteen. I need a shower. Now.

Derek released him with a laugh and stood up, staring down at the quivering boy on the ground. "Look at what you've done, now I have to shower again. But I'll take that as a yes. See you tomorrow, Pretty Boy."

Derek waited until he heard the door shut to let his orgasm wash over him.

… … … End Flashback … … …


	10. The Morning After

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

… … … …Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

What the hell was I thinking?

After the last of his post-orgasm haze faded, Derek was left standing in the locker room shower in a cold sweat. He dressed and packed his bag on autopilot, pausing only to bang his head against his gym locker a few times, then grabbed his bag and headed out the door for home.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Where the hell did I pull that out of? He never even…I mean… Fuck. He's not gonna say yes to this. He's not even gonna come back to school tomorrow. And who the fuck would? I wouldn't! Oh my god, I nearly raped him in the locker room…Forget passing the year. I'm gonna be arrested.

Derek spent his brief walk home wondering how in the world he could have been so stupid. Maybe he wasn't always the brightest bulb, due in part to a lack of motivation, but he wasn't dumb. Not that dumb.

And maybe I don't have a lot of self-control, but I know I've got more than that! How did this get so out of hand? It's impossible…Oh god. Hotch is gonna kill me…

He paused at the front door and ran his hands over his face.

Forget Pretty Boy not going to school tomorrow. I'm not either.

Derek open his front door and stopped in his tracks.

Speak of the devil…

"Welcome home, honey!" His mother smiled at him from her sideways seat on the couch. Hotch glanced over the back, raising one eyebrow minutely.

Derek quickly schooled his panicked expression, but he knew it was too late. The eyebrow dropped and Hotch's lips pressed together. That was as good as a death sentence. "Hey, Ma. What's up, Hotch?"

"Aaron was kind enough to bring your math book over," his mother put it in, standing up and straightening the pillows she'd been leaning against.

My…But that was in my bag this after-That ass. He took it from my bag before he left so he'd have a reason to come over. He probably knew I was gonna try to ditch him.

"You must have left it at my house the other night," Aaron deadpanned.

"Well, since you're here this late, Aaron, please feel free to stay for dinner. Maybe you could talk Derek into getting some actual work done tonight," Ms. Morgan suggested sweetly, aiming a pointed glare at Derek.

"Thank you, Ms. Morgan, I would love to join you."

They're in on this together, I know it. She's gonna to send me to an early grave and she'll do it with a smile.

Hotch was already headed up the stairs to Derek's room before he had a chance to voice a protest.

Derek moved to trudge up behind him when a light hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He swallowed and turned to face his mother.

"I know that look, Derek Morgan. And Aaron's too. He's not here about a textbook. I'm not sure what you've done, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it wasn't your most intelligent decision ever."

Why can't I have a pleasantly oblivious mother like Adam?

She interpreted her son's silence as confirmation and continued, her tone carrying a hint of the motherly-love threat most teenagers learned to fear, "If this is anything like the debacle with that ridiculous cheerleader, I'm going to trust Aaron to give you the earful you need…" She paused to see if she'd guessed right and groaned when he cleared his throat sheepishly.

"Jesus, boy. Fine, go face the music," she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "If whatever this is gets out of hand, I'm here for you, Derek. But try not to do anything too stupid."

"I'm trying, Ma, really," Derek flinched mentally at the white lie.

Starting tomorrow, I swear, I won't do anything MORE stupid than I what did today.

She shook her head and let him go, heading to the kitchen to start dinner.

He hesitated at the foot of the stairs before starting up to face his sometimes stand-in father figure.

"What did he say? More importantly, what the hell did you do?"

Hotch sat in Derek's desk chair, looking for all the world like a disapproving school principal, even in jeans and a t-shirt.

Derek dropped backward on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm.

"I fucked up, Hotch. Bad."

… … … End Flashback … … …

When Spencer opened bleary eyes the next morning, he was facing the window. Based on the faint light coming through, it was about six o'clock. His body felt oddly heavy and slightly bruised. And hot. Very hot.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Spencer reached out blindly to grab the glass of water he always kept on his night stand, but found nothing. Not even the night stand. Forcing his eyes open, Spencer scanned what he could see of the room. Of Derek's room.

Wait… It wasn't a dream? Then vulgar language really was a success! I need to get home and do more research…

He tried to roll onto his back, only to find himself trapped by a very warm arm draped over his waist under the covers. Another shift and the grip tightened, pulling him back to press against what felt like a human-shaped furnace.

Spencer squirmed, trying to pull away. He was beginning to wish that Derek didn't use any sheets at all. He put off way too much heat for personal comfort. Spencer's second attempt at escape only resulted in an even tighter grip and full-body contact. Drawing to Spencer's attention exactly the situation he'd been trying to avoid when they fell asleep. In this spooned position, his hips lined up with Derek's perfectly. A little too perfectly. He bit his lip when Derek's partial erection pressed against him and fought a thrill of desire.

That's not because of you. It's not even sexual. Just a normal physiological occurrence due to his relaxed sleeping state. Or he may just have to go to the bathroom. You know better than this…

But he couldn't stop his own body from responding.

Have to get up!

Spencer grabbed Derek's wrist and struggled to lift his arm, his body twisting slightly with the effort. A brief moment of confusion at the abnormal weight of Derek's arm was answered with a grumble from Derek.

"Reid, you want to tell me why I'm awake right now?"

"I-I uh…I need to get up," Spencer mumbled, still fighting against Derek to free himself.

"Why? 'S warm and I'm still tired," his voice was thick with sleep, making Spencer smile a little despite his predicament.

"Because you…you're um…It's kind of…I mean…"

Why can't I ever speak clearly around him?

He shuddered at the feel of Derek's husky laughter rumbling against the bare skin of his back and tried to worm out from under Derek's arm.

"D-Derek, it's not funny! Let me u-Derek!" Spencer gasped out.

Derek's nails dug lightly at the bruise he'd left on Spencer's hip, pulling him closer. "You're right, it's not," all traces of sleep were gone. "You wake me up wriggling this tight little ass against me, and you expect me just to let you go without finishing what you started? I don't find that even mildly amusing," he punctuated the remark with a sharp thrust of his hips. "That's alright, I'll finish it for both of us."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his moan. Derek's hand slid off of his hip to grip Spencer through the thin fabric of his pants. His other arm wrapped beneath Spencer and up over his chest, keeping him pressed close to Derek's body. Spencer whimpered as Derek began to stroke his cock slowly in time with the gentle rocking of his hips.

Too close. Need more clothes. Can feel him so close…Hot. It's so hot. Too much skin. Too much. Too much clothing… Closer… More… Not enough…

Two pairs of thin pants between them, with nothing underneath, wasn't enough to disguise anything. Derek's grip was tightening, moving a little faster, grinding into Spencer a little harder.

So hot. So hard… Can feel his-

"Ah!" Sharper thrust to keep Spencer present.

"What happened to my talkative Pretty Boy from last night? Hm?" Derek murmured in his ear, panting ever so slightly.

"I-I ha…ah…D-Derek…oh…"

Doing it on purpose. Can't talk…barely think…when he does th-

"Ooooh…" Spencer moaned low in his throat. Derek's thrusts were angling upward now, pushing…

It was there again. That feeling of being invaded, but with no real cause. Delicious and primal and terrifying.

"Talk to me, Baby Boy. Tell me what it feels like." Derek nipped at Spencer's ear, earning a gasp.

Baby…?

"It's-Ah! C-can't…Can't focus w-with both…" Spencer panted and writhed against Derek, making him groan softly. His movements slowed, but didn't stop.

"Then pick. Which do you want more?"

More. A lot of it. Need more.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly, finally grasping what his body wanted more of. More contact. But more than that.

Deeper. Want him in me. Deep inside of me.

Spencer shivered and tried to indicate with his body, pushing his hips back into Derek's. He felt Derek smile against his neck and knew he understood, but Derek kept teasing anyway.

He won't stop until I say it…Wants to hear more like last night…

"I-I want to feel your cock g-grinding up against m-my ass," Spencer clutched at the hand over his chest, bucking forward as Derek released his arousal with one last tight squeeze.

His hand returned to Spencer's hip, blunt nails scratching over the bite mark. Spencer gave up holding back and pulled the corner of his pillow up to his mouth to muffle himself.

Teeth dug into his shoulder, tugging lightly. He whimpered into the cloth.

"Uh-uh, Pretty Boy. You still have to talk to me," another hard thrust to remind him.

"Ah! Feels hot!"

"What does?"

"Everything…Your hands, your breath, your skin, your cock-Oh!" The hand on his chest brushed lightly over a nipple. Spencer arched, pressing forward into the caress and back into Derek's rocking hips.

"Keep talking," Derek growled, pinching the nipple under his fingers.

Spencer hid his yelp in the pillow, fighting his fast rising orgasm.

Vocalization… Arousing for me as well when paired with physical stimul-

A sharp twist of the pebbled flesh coupled with a slow grind against his covered entrance broke Spencer's train of thought.

"You know, for a genius you sure have a short attention span," Derek chided softly. "How does it feel? Don't make me ask again."

"H-hard. Thick. Heavy…Ah! Empty… So e-empty…D-Derek!" Spencer's words were stuttered with pants and moans. Derek was rocking faster now, harder, using his grip on Spencer to pull him back into every shallow thrust. "Y-you're close. Can feel you throbbing…against my a-ass."

Spencer whined as a series of hard bites crossed his shoulders.

Can't take much more…So close! Not close. There. Now.

"Derek, I'm gonna cum!"

He felt the vibrations of Derek's groan right before his teeth sank into the flesh of Spencer's neck. The hand holding his hip disappeared and buried in Spencer's hair, shoving his face down in the pillow to catch his sobs. Allowing him to ride the waves of his orgasm without restraint.

When the pressure keeping him down finally relented Spencer clutched at the sheets, sucking in air in shallow gasps. If he'd felt overheated before, he was dying now. Judging from the sheen he could see on the arm over his chest and the heavy breaths on his neck, Derek was too. Spencer shifted to get up once more. This time Derek let him.

"God, you just can't sit still, can you?" Derek stretched languidly, a stark contrast to Spencer's awkward fidgeting.

"Not when I feel sticky and…well, for lack of a better word, gross." Derek paused mid-stretch and trained his eyes on Spencer's face.

"Regrets already, Pretty Boy?" His tone was bland and expression shuttered.

Regrets? How did he get-Oh...

"No! No, I just umm…well, you put off a lot of body heat so I was already perspiring from sleeping so close to you a-and with the physiological response to uh...and teh physical exertion…" Derek's teasing smirk returned, allowing Spencer to relax. "Anyway, I should probably take a shower, is all," he finished with a mumble.

Derek sighed and sat up, "Fine, I guess I should get up. There should be an extra towel in the bathroom. You can have first shower and I'll throw our clothes in the wash. …Those pants should go in." He looked pointedly at the stain on Spencer's second pair of pajamas.

Spencer blushed and attempted to shield the evidence of his orgasm, turning away. He looked back at Derek in confusion when that earned him an outright laughing fit. Derek was holding his ribs and had to wipe away tears once he managed to get himself under control.

"The uh…Ahaha…The back isn't much…haha…It's worse than the front," Derek's explanation was interrupted by his residual snickers.

Spencer grabbed the seam of his pants on one side and twisted them to see what Derek meant.

Mortifying. That's what this is.

Spencer's light blush became the full-bodied red flush that only Derek could summon. There was an even larger damp stain covering his ass, rather low on his ass.

Must have bled through Derek's pants and all over mine…I didn't even feel it. Why isn't he even mildly embarrassed?

He covered his face with both hands when Derek slid off the bed and approached him.

"Relax," Derek steered him towards the door with one hand low on Spencer's back. "Come on, get in the shower and give me those. You can use anything that's in there."

Spencer nodded and stumbled into the bathroom, hesitating when Derek waited expectantly.

"Are you seriously going to pull the modesty card now? Really?"

His incredulous tone brought a glare from Spencer and he held up his hands in mock surrender, "Ok, ok. Just get in the shower then and hand 'em to me."

Is a little privacy too much to ask? Derek never struck me as the type to lean towards clinginess when he showed interest in a particular girl. That will be difficult to research, though, without talking to his peer group…

Spencer huffed, climbing into the shower and snapping the curtain shut. He kicked off his pajamas and held them out around the curtain, jerking away as soon as he was sure Derek had them.

"Are you always this pissy in the morning?" Derek queried as he pulled down their clothes to wash. Probably figuring he was safe from another glare since Spencer was completely naked.

Ugh, he's right.

Spencer ran his hands over his face and turned on the water, as hot as he could stand.

While my indignation isn't uncalled for, it's not really surprising that he wasn't expecting any shyness on my part after last night.

"Coffee," Spencer said, tilting his head back under the water. "I'll be better after I have coffee."

"Ummm… ok."

He's judging me.

Spencer pouted silently, listening for the door to shut behind him.

He'll judge me more when he sees how much sugar I add to it.

Turning his attention to the soaps on the rack, Spencer grabbed the first one. He opened it and drowned in the scent of Derek.

Oh no. I don't know if I can use this. It's a bit too concentrated for my sanity. But that's the only soap he has. Two kinds of shampoo though…He must have unexpected sleepovers often if he stocks shampoo. He doesn't keep his hair long enough to require any. Nothing feminine. Must have a full-bath downstairs for his mother. Either girls don't stay over often, or they shower there. Don't think about them. You have no commitments and you know he's a flirt. Just shower.

He gave up the search and scrubbed himself down in Derek's scent, reviewing the history of early 18th century England to keep his runaway hormones in check. He plucked a shampoo at random and worked his hair into a lather. He peeked around the curtain to check and make sure Derek hadn't managed to sneak back in.

Utterly ridiculous. You know he didn't. No one's here to watch.

So Spencer commenced in his shower time ritual. He slid his hands up either side of his head, pulling his long hair up as he went. Working carefully, methodically, he shaped the soapy mass into a cylindrical pyramid. Then he twirled the tip of the cone around his finger and wrung out some of the excess suds, turning the cone into an artful swirl on the top of his head. The playful process continued for about ten more minutes before he decided Derek was going to start wondering if he'd drowned.

This may be the main reason I keep my hair long…

With a regretful sigh, Spencer rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair, ran a small amount of conditioner through it and turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower and turned to grab…

Which towel?

"Ummm…Derek?" Spencer called.

"Last rung on the back of the door," he heard faintly

Spencer snatched the towel from the door and wrapped it securely around his waist, then opened the door to let the steam fade from the mirror. Using the clearing patches, he started separating his hair at its part. It wasn't until the mirror had cleared fully that he was able to see the full extent of the damage Derek had done.

His chest was covered in hickeys, faint bruises in the figuration of splayed hands, more bite marks across the back of his shoulders and the base of his neck. Most were already yellowing, but the worst was the bright bluish-purple mark at his hip. His own fingers lightly trailed over the marks.

Marked. That's what this feels like. It feels like he tried to brand me. I...I think I like that.

"Find it?"

Spencer jumped and Derek smirked, stepping fully into the bathroom. "You smell like me."

Spencer tugged at his dripping hair with one hand, the other still tracing one of the marks on his ribs, "Not much choice in that really…"

Derek caught the hand on his ribs and pulled it away, turning Spencer to face him. Spencer shuffled his bare feet and looked at the floor, while Derek's fingertips skimmed the same path his had followed. He cleared his throat and tried to pretend the trembling was from the cool air of the hallway.

"S-some of them are already fading. They shouldn't uh…They shouldn't last too long," Spencer said, mostly to reassure himself that he wasn't disappointed at the fact.

He blinked when a hand caught under his chin and tilted his face up. Derek's eyes were calm and calculating. "Then next time, I won't go so easy on you."

T-that was easy?

Spencer's jaw would have dropped if it hadn't been held shut, as it was his eyes couldn't get much bigger. Derek smirked at the expression and brushed by him.

"Go dry off. I have some gym shorts from when I was, like, 10 that should fit you. They're on the bed."

"You probably have some uh…some homework or something for the weekend, right? Since I'm already here, I could get started on it. If there's coffee, that is. I should really wait until I've had coffee."

Derek raised an eyebrow and shook his head, chuckling, "There's a coffee maker downstairs. If my mom's up already, there should be some. If not…You're a genius and you have my permission to figure out how to work it and use the coffee if you can find it."

Spencer nodded, backing out of the bathroom.

The bed was stripped. Just a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts.

He's washing his sheets? Awfully hygienic for a teenager. Actually…more to the point…He does his own laundry? His mother is doing a good job at grooming someone a husband. Besides being a stunning physical specimen, this would be an excellent selling point for any girl. Intelligent. When he applies himself. Caring. When he wants to be. Alright, so if she motivates him, he'll be perfect. Okay, that and coffee. He needs to learn to make coffee and then he'll be perfect. …Damn. The stupid shorts fit. I need to gain weight. And inches. A lot of those.

Groaning, Spencer trudged down the stairs to find coffee. He could smell it halfway down the stairs. Dark roast. Heaven in a cup. And Derek's mother at the table.

Don't blush. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't know anything. Doesn't need to. Just get coffee. Smile, wave. …No, don't wave. Why did you do that? Who does that? Crap. Where are the cups?

"Good morning, Spencer," Ms. Morgan smiled, cheerful despite the early hour for a Saturday.

Because she's already having her coffee. Now answer, don't just stare at her.

"G-good morning, ma'am." Spencer smiled politely, vaguely, trying to figure out the odds of which cabinet held the cups.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?"

Hungry…Food…Coffee. Coffee would be very nice. Cup for cof-Why isn't she more surprised that I'm here? How often does he just cart friends over? Coffee. It will all make sense.

"Actually, if you could just point out the cups…I would really like some coffee. Also, where is your sugar?"

I really should be used to the odd looks. Cup…Cup please. Oh! Yay! Cup for coffee.

Spencer's face lit up when she held out a rather large mug.

Don't take all the coffee. Can't have it all. Leave room for sugar. Lots of sugar. Where's the-Oh, she's an angel. Truly a wonderful woman.

Ms. Morgan placed a bowl of sugar on the table, turning to pull out fixings for pancakes while attempting to hide her smile.

Stop swinging your feet! You look like a little kid!

"Mmmm…"

Fabulous. She needs to teach Derek to do this.

"Morning, Ma."

Spencer glanced up to watch Derek enter room. He grabbed his own cup and filled it with orange juice, then sat it in front of the seat beside Spencer.

"Need help with anything?"

"Can you switch the loads out? There are some towels that need to be washed."

Derek nodded and left again. Spencer watched Ms. Morgan move about the kitchen and made a mental note to call his own parents in a few hours. They wouldn't be up at 8 in the morning on a Saturday.

This isn't odd for either of them. Having a guest this early, just sitting with them. I wonder if she treats everyone like part of an extended family…

"Can I help at all?" Spencer fiddled with the handle of his empty cup, telling himself it would be rude to get a second before Ms. Morgan got the chance.

"Sure, honey. Would you mind peeling these?" She indicated three oranges in a bowl on the counter.

Spencer grabbed them and was just starting on the second when Derek came back and plopped into his chair, snatching at an orange slice.

The movement startled Spencer into an instinctive response. He smacked Derek's hand sharply, "You can wait for your mother to join us!"

Derek dropped the slice and stared at Spencer, eyes wide with shock and lips curving slowly into a smile. Ms. Morgan laughed, "You need to bring him home more often, Derek."

That's a real smile. Not a smirk. That has genuine happiness in it. No motive…

The smile was hidden when Derek lifted his cup to his lips, whispering for only Spencer to hear, "Ok, Pretty Boy, you can win this one."

Spencer blushed and turned back to the oranges, which suddenly required his full attention.

Breakfast with Derek and his mother was as amazing as the dinner the other night had been. Spencer considered this as he helped to clear the dishes.

How does he ever get girls to agree to a break up? He's only "dated" one or two of his fangirls, but he's been physically involved with a number of them. And he's never ended up with any stalkers that I'm aware of. Or even disputes amongst their own ranks. Were they all as accepting of his flirtatious behavior as I am? I feel like this is a different arrangement though, so I would assume that their interpretations would be nothing like mine. That and I'm a male. That would probably also make a difference. More research required... Derek certainly takes a lot of outside effort.

When the clean up was done, Derek's mother shooed them from the kitchen, banishing Derek to his homework and offering Spencer roaming privileges for the house until it was time for him to leave.

He called his parents, told them he was safe and yes he'd enjoyed the game and yes they'd had…fun…last night. No, he'd finished all his homework. No, he wasn't far from home and didn't need a ride. Yes, his clothes were out of the dryer now so he wasn't going to walk home in these shorts in November. Yes, he loved them too. Of course, he liked his new friend too—Very much—He'd be home soon, just wanted to help Derek study for an upcoming math test.

"They're really accepting of your spotty updates, considering how little you go out," Derek commented. He had math notes borrowed from Mat spread across his bed, trying to concentrate on the study guide.

"They're really accepting of my spotty updates BECAUSE of how little I go out. That and they're over-joyed that I have a 'friend' finally," Spencer replied, flipping through Derek's literature notes to find the assignment he was supposed to be doing. "You're really going to have to get better about this. How am I supposed to do the work, if you don't even know what it is? And you need to take better notes too. What if your teacher says something specific she wants you to include? I don't actually know EVERYTHING they teach. You realize that, right?"

"Alright, alright! I'll do better," Derek grimaced at the look Spencer gave him. "I promise. I will take notes." Spencer turned to face him fully. "I'll take my own notes. I'll write them myself. Really!"

"Good. This is only going to be enough to get you out of high school, anyway," Spencer grouched. "It's not like anyone can take any of the higher education exams, like the SAT, for you."

"Who says I even want that? What if I don't want a higher education?" Derek asked. He'd finally found the right section to work him through the first set of problems.

"Well, what do you want? They won't take you into pro football right out of high school. You may get a scholarship for a college team, but you still have to have the scores and the GPA. If you don't want that, what do you want?"

Derek stared at the paper and shrugged, "How the hell should I know?"

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

He came to school. He not only came to school, he came to lunch. He never comes to the lunch room. Ever. And he sat right where I wanted him too. I mean, yeah, he looked scared as hell, but he was there. That means something right? Of course it does. That's as good as a yes. Alright, maybe that's stretching it, but still. Ok. Ok. Hotch says be patient. I can't afford to frighten him off. And I really don't want to.

Derek leaned back in his desk and waited for homeroom to end.

The three stooges were celebrating the lack of practice, but Derek was regretting not having anything to distract him from the prospect of not seeing the little genius. Hotch finally gave up trying to ignore them and stood up to check himself out. Derek never really knew where he went during homeroom, but he rarely stayed the whole time.

He turned his attention back to the trio, always good for some entertainment.

"Morgan, I think Reid's here to see you."

Derek snapped up and turned in his desk.

Holy shit! He came to me? Aw, he's blushing. He's so easy to read… I love making him blush.

His smirk settled into place.

Well, let's see what Boy Genius wants.

Spencer sighed hopelessly as Derek approached the door, the rest of the class mumbling behind him and trying not to be obvious with their eavesdropping.

Busybodies, all of them.

"I'm not going to be able to do this outside the door without them listening, am I?" Spencer grumbled.

Derek chuckled lightly, "Not a chance. We'll have to find a more…secluded location."

Thank you, busybodies.

Spencer's eyes jerked up, "Don't look at me like that. I just have a few things to say and that's it."

Derek's eyes darkened, "Sure, Pretty Boy, sure. You know what, I've got the perfect spot."

Ok, don't scare him this time. He just wants to talk. That's good. And then you can take advantage of him lat-NO! No taking advantage. Ok, well, really this whole thing is taking advantage…But he was never gonna agree to this if I just asked him. He never would have believed me.

Derek watched Spencer tremble and acknowledged it with a predatory grin.

"Come on." He gently maneuvered Spencer from the doorway and started them down the hallway. Gently enough that Spencer started to relax.

See? Just be gentle…Wait, when did I…Fuck. We're headed towards that damn bathroom. When did I decide to go there? I just wanted to go around the corner...

They had turned the corner and were headed down the stairwell.

"Derek, wait—" Derek's grip on Spencer's arm tightened abruptly.

Too late. Need him. Now. Screw gentle.

"Hush."

Spencer began struggling in earnest. "Where-"

"Stop that." Derek jerked his arm roughly. "Remember, you came to me this time."

So close. Need to touch him. Do not pop a tent in the hallway, not in the hallway.

They turned one more corner and Derek dragged him through the little hallway into the bottom floor bathroom. He twisted Spencer sharply by the arm, pulling a gasp from his lungs, then shoved him back into the wall.

Spencer flinched as his back hit cold cement. Derek brought his body as close as he could get without actually touching the smaller boy. Spencer squirmed and lifted his hands to push Derek back, "Now, Derek, look—"

Yes, please!

Derek snatched Spencer's slender wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. "I think I will, thanks."

Who the hell looks so unbelievably edible in preacher slacks and sweater vests?

Spencer tugged at his wrists and attempted to pull away from the wall.

If he does that again, I'm taking him on the floor.

"Hold still," Derek growled in his ear, caging Spencer's body against the wall with his own.

Spencer shifted against Derek in his agitation. His lips parted in a silent gasp and he gave in, letting his muscles sag against the wall.

This is turning him on… He's going to be the death of me. Fuck, I want to kiss him. I bet he'd faint.

"Much better." Derek's chuckle rumbled in his chest. "So what was it you wanted to say, Pretty Boy?"

Is he seriously not going to answer me? Is he even…

Derek dropped his head to Spencer's neck and bit down. Hard.

Derek almost broke skin when he heard Spencer moan.

Need to hear him do that when he's on his back…

Spencer tried to glare up at Derek, but it looked more like a pleading stare.

"You were drifting off on me. Keep looking at me like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions," Derek was scared he was going to break Spencer's wrist if his grip got much tighter. He couldn't help but press his aching cock into the pliable body in his hands.

I need to let hi-Wait. Is he honestly…He's completely hard. There's no way I'm stopping now. If he doesn't start talking soon, I'm going to fuck that pretty little mouth 'til it's bruised.

"Start talking or I'm going to assume you came to me because you wanted to play," Derek ground his thigh harshly between Spencer's leg, making him sob against Derek's chest.

"More…" Spencer gasped out.

Ok, that's definitely a yes and that's more than definitely asking for it.

Derek gripped Spencer's slender hip so hard he swore it creaked.

"Gladly."

… … … End Flashback … … …


	11. A Week in the Life

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"But you'll have to earn it first," Derek's teeth grazed Spencer's ear.

Does he not realize how tempting he is…

"That's not…I mean I didn't…AH!"

Derek ground his aching groin into Spencer's to put a halt to any protests.

Can't let him deny it…

"You didn't? That's odd. I'm not feeling a lot of refusal right now," Derek moved his hand off of Spencer's hip and closer to the erection tenting his pants.

Derek's body tightened further at the answering whimper.

"It's umm…a sta…statist…statistica…" Spencer shuddered again as Derek's hand moved closer. "It's not likely that my hormone-ridden teenage body will be able to say no to this amount of stimulation."

What? Were those actual words? Well, ignorance is bliss…

"We'll pretend I understood that, and I'll pretend it's just what I want to hear," Derek released Spencer's wrists and hip, catching him as he stumbled forward.

Want him on his knees, swallowing me whole. Not here. Hide…No one else gets to see him this way. NO ONE. Stall. Now!

Derek dragged Spencer into the handicap stall and shoved him down on his knees, holding his in place by his hair.

So soft…Mmmm, love how he moans when I pull. Can't wait anymore! C'mon, open that little mouth for me, Pretty Boy… You know what I want.

"That's it, Pretty Boy, don't make me spell it out," Derek used his grip on Spencer's hair to force him to lean backwards. He stepped forward, feet on either side of Spencer's knees, practically straddling his chest. Spencer was still for nearly a full minute, eyes glazed.

Did he space out AGAIN?

Derek tugged sharply at the locks tangled in his fingers. He had to close his eyes to keep control when Spencer moaned breathily and turned hazel eyes upward, panting open mouthed. Derek tightened his grip. "Now, Reid," he growled.

Spencer's fluttering hands worked clumsily at the belt loop, but finally managed to free Derek's straining erection.

"Reid…" Derek murmured, breathless from the relief.

His eyes nearly rolled back in his head when Spencer reached forward tentatively, wrapping a hand around Derek's hot length and squeezing gently.

More…When's the last time I was this eager?

"Fuck, Pretty Boy, don't tease me," Derek groaned, thrusting into Spencer's loose grip, trying not to wrench the hair in his grasp any harder.

Slowly, Spencer parted his lips and darted his tongue out, barely brushing the hot skin.

FUCK!

And that was all Derek could take. His grip on Spencer's hair disappeared, destroying his precarious balance. His mouth fell open in a gasp as the fall began, exactly as Derek wanted. His hand shot out and cupped the back of Spencer's head. Derek's hips snapped forward, forcing himself as far as he could get into Spencer's open mouth and holding him there with the hand on his head.

Spencer gagged immediately and began pushing at Derek's hips.

"I said don't tease," Derek panted heatedly. "Stop struggling and relax your throat. There we go," Derek waited until Spencer's throat and jaw muscles slackened to pull back enough for Spencer to breathe properly.

He's gotta stop. Gotta stop moving. Wanna break him. What the hell is wrong with me? Hurting him… Can't stop. Listen to him whimper, he's loving this more than I am…

There was a pause…And when Spencer began sucking and licking in earnest, Derek's knees almost gave out.

Whore…he's gotta have a part time job as whore… Fuck! Where did he learn that?

Derek knew what a great head felt like. This was better. It was like the kid had an instruction manual or something. Spencer's hands and tongue were everywhere. He was finding pleasure points Derek had never taken the time to look for. He had expected more hesitation, more opposition. Not a professional blow job. Or this much enthusiasm.

Acts like it's a treat or something...

"God, how the hell do you know what I like?"

Spencer's hand replaced his mouth, squeezing lightly as it slid over the turgid skin, and Derek took that opportunity to jerk Spencer's head back again.

"You're loving this aren't you, Pretty Boy?" Derek growled, his eyes dark eyes hazed and burning, pupils blown. He kept the grip on Spencer's hair, trying to force him to speak—Want to hear him say it—but the kid couldn't seem to focus. Finally, Derek took pity on him and accepted the plaintive whimper as a yes. Derek couldn't take his eyes off those pink lips, parted and slicked with saliva, throat working as Spencer gulped in air.

Looks like a greedy little whore…Want to hear him talk like one. Want to hear him BEG.

"Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cock as far down your throat as you can get it."

"I…I…want it.," Spencer strained against Derek's grip and tried to pull his hips closer.

No, no, no…Pretty Boy's gonna do as he's told.

Derek yanked him back and smirked, "That's not what I said."

Spencer's full body flush turned a shade brighter. "Um…I uh—Please, Derek."

Mmm, yes…You can do better than that, baby…

Derek started to step back and Spencer's nails dug into his hip bones.

"No, please! I um…I want your uh…c-co um cock. And I uh…That is…ummm… Iwantyoutoejaculateinmymouth," Spencer choked out in a rush, closing his eyes tightly.

SHIT! Don't cum yet!

Derek chuckled darkly, "A filthy mouth is cute on you, Pretty Boy."

Derek pulled Spencer's head forward to meet the thrust of his hips, moaning when Spencer took his entire length between his lips. "Let me teach you a few new words. I'm not going to 'ejaculate' in your mouth. I'm going to fuck your mouth until I cum and you're going to swallow every last drop. Clear?"

Derek forced Spencer to pull back again just far enough for him to speak, forcing his neck to arch. Derek caressed the slender column of pale flesh with his eyes.

Wanna bite it. Wanna mark him where everyone can see. No one else can touch him.

Spencer's lips brushed against the head of Derek's cock as they moved, his breath cool compared to the heat of his mouth, "You…you're going to ummm…f-fuck my mouth until you…c-cum. And I'm going to uh…swallow all of it."

Gorgeous like this…

"Perfect." Spencer's lips were parted as Derek slowly thrust into his mouth again with a groan. "Remember to watch the teeth."

Not gonna be able to keep this up for long…What's he…Nuh-uh. Not yet.

Derek caught Spencer's hand before it could reach his own neglected cock.

"No. Not yet, Pretty Boy," Derek's dark grin returned when Spencer whimpered around him. "Soon enough."

Want to see that though. Want to watch him touch himself. Want to make him squirm.

He met Spencer's second whimper with a rough thrust that had him gagging again, "I told you, you had to earn it."

Has to know…He has to learn… What? Know what? What am I trying to pro-Oh God!

He felt Spencer's tongue curve upward, scraping over the underside Derek's cock as he pounded into the tight mouth, his pace became frenzied.

So close. So fucking close!

Derek gritted his teeth and groaned as he came, vaguely registering the bell signaling the end of the day. He watched in hazy amazement as Spencer greedily swallowed every last drop, throat flexing with every swallow.

Pretty Boy has no clue just how sexy he is. Good, 'cause…Why?

"Fuck…" Derek slumped back against the wall, panting heavily, already doing up his belt.

"I don't understand… Is fuck a verb or an interjection?" He looked up at Derek through his lashes, his lips swollen and red, cheeks the pink flush of sex.

Derek stared down at the boy kneeling before him, trying to absorb the contrast Spencer's utterly debauched appearance presented with that question.

So naive…I wanna break him…I wanna to make him scream. Wanna pin him down and fuck him 'til he's senseless. And keep going.

Derek absently noted the confusion that flavored Spencer's expression, then jerked him to his feet by his hair.

"Derek!"

"Shut up. It's your turn, Pretty Boy," Derek spun him around and pressed Spencer's back to his chest, quickly undoing his pants.

So tiny…I really could break him. Shit, what was that?

Derek clamped his free hand over Spencer's mouth to muffle his moan at the rough treatment. He felt Spencer's body still against him and knew he heard the footsteps as well.

Dude'll definitely notice two sets of feet. Where can I…Ah.

"Not even a whimper, understood?" Derek didn't wait for a reply before lifting Spencer up off the ground with a hand around his hips—Too small—and pushing him onto his knees on the toilet seat. The guy was in the bathroom now.

No way I'm stopping now, not with Baby Genius hot and horny.

Derek placed his hand on top of Spencer's and slid it into his boxer shorts, pulling Spencer's dripping erection free. Spencer's lips parted to release a moan, only to find his mouth filled with three of Derek's fingers.

The next time I put my fingers in his mouth, he'll be lubing 'em for me to shove them up this tight little ass…

Spencer trembled violently against Derek's chest, and Derek forced him to grip his cock tighter. He guided Spencer's hand through three rough strokes, watching the muscles of Spencer's throat work to produce sounds no one could hear.

Want to take him. Can't. Can't take him yet. Can't break him yet. But I can make him give. I can make him bend.

Derek pulled his fingers from Spencer's mouth and wrapped his hand around the pale flesh of Spencer's neck. And squeezed. His own thoughts faded into the background as he watched surprise flicker across Spencer's face. Common sense almost made him let go. Surely the kid would fight him, drawing unwanted attention. No one would just…He wasn't fighting. The emotion on his face transformed to pure bliss and Derek felt the lithe body buck as Spencer came. And still he didn't fight. Didn't struggle. He relaxed completely, his head leaning back against Derek's shoulder, exposing even more of his throat.

Mine. This is mine. He is mine.

Derek's grip tightened as he fought to control the overwhelming desire to take Spencer there and then on the filthy floor, settling instead for lifting Spencer's sticky fingers to lips parted in a rising need for air.

Don't wanna let him go…

"Lick 'em clean, Pretty Boy," Derek kept his voice so soft his breath barely moved the hair over Spencer's ear. He watched entranced as Spencer willingly sucked each of his fingers clean of his own cum. The color in Spencer's face was darkening and Derek knew he'd have to let go soon, but he still wasn't fighting. He wasn't frightened.

Wanna fuck him like this. Get him on his knees, hold him by his throat and fuck him from behind…

And then the other boy was washing his hands and leaving. Derek released his hold on Spencer's neck. Derek caught the smaller boy as he slumped forward, lifting him gently and setting him on the ground. He carefully zipped up Spencer's slacks and held him steady until he trusted Spencer could stand on his own.

Ugh…Look at him. He looks like he just got fucked by half the school.

Derek could tell Spencer was coming back to himself when he dropped his head and stared at the floor. What surprised him was Spencer trying to scoot by and out of the stall. Derek caught his arm.

"Where are you running off to, Pretty Boy?"

"I uh…I have t-to get back to class." Spencer hadn't looked up.

He didn't… Wow.

Derek tried to control his laughter, but failed miserably.

"What's so funny?" Derek couldn't help but find the offended tone rather endearing.

Not nearly so innocent as I thought he was…

"You really were enjoying yourself, weren't you?" Derek stalked towards him purposefully.

"Ye- I mean no-I mean- What?"

"The bell rang ten minutes ago, Reid."

"Oh my gosh! I have to get my stuff and—Ouch!"

Derek tugged Spencer back by his shirt and shoved him forward over the edge of a sink.

Can't let him leave looking like this.

"And what? Walk home alone?" Derek gripped Spencer's chin and forced him to look up into the mirror above the sink. "Look at yourself."

Spencer did as he was told. The position gave Derek an excellent view of the pink-cheeked, flustered boy. Just looking at Spencer in that state was enough to turn him on.

"I look like a disheveled, distracted student who needs to take off a few layers and find some coffee."

Derek snorted, "You look like you've been fucked six ways to Sunday and I don't care what part of town you live in, if you walk home by yourself like this you're gonna get raped."

By me. He's coming home with me. Think of a reason… Oh! That bullshit pamphlet thingy!

"What? I don't look anything like that. And I have to get home and do my homework anyway, so please just…" Spencer pushed at Derek's arms.

"No," Derek stepped closer, pressing against Spencer back again and leaning him further over the sink. "You're going to come home with me. Call your parents when we get there and tell them you're helping me with a project."

Spencer's eyes widened, perverting the statement in every possible way. "But we um…We just… It's a bit soon, don't you think?"

One eyebrow ticked up. "To complete a project that's due tomorrow. No, I don't think so. Remember there's two sides to this deal, Pretty Boy. You got your side in advance, now you're going to get your skinny ass to my house and make sure I pass this assignment."

Then I'll lock you in my closet and never let you leave.

"Oh, right. Ummm yeah. Ok. I need to get my stuff…"

Not like this. No one sees this but me.

"Tuck your shirt back in and fix your hair."

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer sighed and set his bag down on his desk. His stay at Derek's ended when Aaron knocked on the front door. Spencer had taken his leave when the knowing looks became too much to handle. He'd reminded himself all the way home that he should be grateful for the respite of the weekend. And Derek wasn't that far away. Hardly a whole block.

He stepped up to the mirror beside his closet and stared at his reflection.

Glad he knows better than to bite too high on my neck…

Spencer slowly lifted his shirt, revealing the mottled bruises crossing his abdomen and chest.

"Easy" he called this…

But Spencer couldn't deny that he wanted more. Of everything. He shuddered and pushed the thoughts from his mind.

Research. Focus on that. Play some chess later…

And eventually the weekend was over. Longest weekend of Spencer's life.

MONDAY

Longest Monday of Spencer's life. True to form, Spencer had avoided crowded public areas all day, eating in the library, carrying all his books, and taking the long routes to class. He'd been attentive in all his classes and kept his mind on his work. Done everything he could to keep from wondering if Derek would be waiting somewhere for him at the end of the day. The only relief was the new book JJ had promised. He finished it during homeroom.

He'd succeeded so well at not thinking about Derek that it actually surprised him when a hand caught his arm as he cut through the parking lot at the end of the day.

Don't over think this…

They were silent all the way to Derek's house. He unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. Spencer stepped out of his shoes and hung his coat on the coat rack by the door. He'd been trying so hard not to think too much, but Derek's silence left him with nothing but his thoughts. It wasn't an awkward silence…Just a heavily loaded one.

Why doesn't he say something?

"How was your day?" And then it was awkward. Derek leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, glaring at the floor like it had offended him.

Ok, well that wasn't really what I was thinking…

"Um…Long…" Spencer looked at him questioningly. "How was yours?

He's hedging around something. Why doesn't he just come out and say it? Avoiding eye contact. Embarrassed, but not defensive. Not a guilty evasion. Don't know what he could be guilty of, anyway.

Derek shrugged. "Same I guess. Had a math test. I don't think I failed it. So…I didn't see you around much today."

Question phrased as a statement. What is he getting at?

"You usually don't. We don't have many classes together and I don't like to attract attention in the halls…" Spencer left the reply as open as possible, trying to get Derek to spit out whatever he was dancing around.

"True," Derek straightened and headed into the living room. "You should call your parents and tell 'em you came home with me."

Spencer shook his head and went into the kitchen to call home.

That didn't work at all. Maybe it has nothing to do with me.

"Actually…" Spencer paused in dialing and looked up at Derek, who'd returned to the doorway. He was staring at the wall by Spencer's head.

Spencer waited for a full minute for Derek to finish.

"You should probably tell them you'll be coming home with me every day. Unless you have, like, family plans or something."

Derek turned abruptly and retreated back into the living room before Spencer could respond.

Not that he would have been able to speak. The muscles in Spencer's lower jaw had apparently atrophied and he couldn't seem to retrieve it from the floor.

That…may have been the most adorable thing I've ever witnessed. Was he really that nervous about asking me to keep coming home with him? Okay, so he didn't ask, he basically demanded, but he clearly wasn't sure that I'd be willing!

Spencer stopped and considered that thought.

I shouldn't find that so sweet. He just gave me an order that will consume most of my free time, and leave me quite vulnerable to his advances, with no real opportunity to say no.

Spencer shrugged and decided to mull over his own mental issues another day. He'd promised himself to take what he could get, and Derek's desire for his company on a regular basis was more than Spencer had ever hoped for.

Was my research that successful already?

"Hey, Mom…I just wanted to let you know…Yes, how did you know?...Good point, he is kind of the only friend I have here…Yeah, and also I wanted to let you know, this will probably be a regular occurrence. With midterms coming up and all…Mhm, and he studies better when there's someone here to keep him focused…No, I'll be home for dinner this time…Love you, too. Bye."

Spencer made his way to the couch in the living room. Derek already had his history book out with a rather sparse collection of notes. A brief deliberation ended in favor of ignoring Derek's moment of sweetness, in case it embarrassed him further. So Spencer hid his smile and pretended nothing had happened.

"What's your homework for tonight?" He sat down a fair distance from Derek.

"There's nothing due tomorrow. I just have this history test coming up on Friday. It's covering three chapters and I figured you probably wouldn't want to help me cram the night before," Derek grinned a little ruefully.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Gosh, I appreciate that. Alright, we'll do a chapter a day and an overall review Thursday night. Your teacher's Ms. Haverty, right? She's a fan of throwing in a few random details only mentioned in class. I don't suppose you took thorough notes?"

Derek cleared his throat and held out five sheets of paper. Spencer stared at him until he set the papers back down and looked away, sheepish.

"…When we're done, you're going to tell me your classes and who's teaching them, and I'm going to tell you how many pages of notes you should be averaging per day. Now, what chapter are you on?"

It took an hour and a half to complete the first chapter. Derek's answers satisfied Spencer for the amount of time they'd been working and he'd made up a study guide for the chapter while they were reviewing. He tucked it into the nearly empty folder Derek claimed was designated for his history notes.

"I'll take your book home and make study guides for the other two chapters tonight. You can have them in the morning, okay?" Spencer looked up to find Derek watching him with a faint smirk, eyes gleaming. He cleared his throat, "Ummm…yes?"

"We're done now, right?" Derek asked, his smirk growing minutely.

"I-I guess s-AH! Derek!" Spencer yelped as Derek took a fistful of his hair and used it to twist him about forcefully and shove him face first into the couch.

"Good. I have a couch to break in. Do you own any turtlenecks, Pretty Boy?" Derek growled, pinning Spencer down with his body weight.

"Y-yeah…"

"Perfect."

When Derek collapsed back onto the arm of the couch forty-five minutes later, Spencer was shirtless and his torso was covered in cum, both his own and Derek's. Beneath the milky white coating was a fresh collection of bites marks, far more vivid than the yellowing bruises they replaced. His hip bones bore matching sets. This time, the trail ended halfway up his neck. The hickies hid the faint handprint shaped bruise that circled his throat—Derek wasn't joking with the turtlenecks—his wrists ached from being pinned and twisted. His scalp was one massive throbbing burn. And Spencer had never been more sated. He wanted to slide onto the floor and melt.

His hazy vision filled with Derek's face.

"You alive, Pretty Boy?" Derek chuckled.

Spencer was fairly certain he smiled and nodded, but his muscles were a bit numb, so he wasn't positive. A cool, damp cloth sliding over his skin helped bring him back to earth. He stretched lazily while Derek wiped the last traces of fluid from his body.

I wonder when he managed to make me so shameless? Last week I would have died before I let this happen.

Spencer elected not to care. Derek tossed him the shirt that had landed on the other side of the room and it fell over his face. Spencer sighed and sat up.

"C'mon, you can do it," Derek laughed. "I can't have my mother thinking, well, knowing that I defiled her precious sofa."

"You sound so apologetic," Spencer quipped, muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.

Like this was his first time, anyway. He probably "breaks it in" with every girl he's been with.

He managed to get it down over his head and found himself face to face with a smirking Derek.

Don't kiss him. Not allowed.

A callused dark hand buried in his hair, twinning through the tangled strands. "Tell me that you are," Derek's teasing tone became husky and promising.

Spencer couldn't help but lean back into the grip, exposing the battered flesh of his neck.

"That's what I thought," Derek released him and gathered his pitiful excuse for notes, tucking them into their folder.

Not fair…

"So where is your mother? Isn't she usually home by now?"

"Works late on Mondays and Tuesdays," Derek called as he headed up the stairs to put his school bag away.

Spencer checked his watch and ran a hand over his face. He needed to get home for dinner. He was pulling his shoes on when Derek came back down the stairs.

"Going home?" His tone just a little empty.

"Yeah, I told my mother I'd be home for dinner. And I have homework to get done, too." Spencer turned and grabbed his coat.

This separation should bother me more, considering the depth of my emotional investment…but it doesn't. I should be worried about how he's "using" me. That the research I'm doing won't be enough to keep his interest…But I don't think that's what this is about anymore.

All the internal tension Spencer hadn't even realized he'd still been carrying evaporated. His lips stretched into a broad smile that he couldn't fight.

"Who the fuck gets this happy about homework?" Derek sounded almost angry, but Spencer was too high to take note of it.

"Not about homework," he laughed, starting to zip up his jacket.

"What then?" Derek had come off the steps and was standing right in front of Spencer.

Normally, Spencer would have hemmed and hawed and sworn it was nothing. Or said that it really was just the work, that he liked the assignment. Anything else. Instead, he answered simply, "You."

Derek stared dumbfounded for several moments. Then he swatted Spencer's hands out of the way and pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way up to hide his abused throat. "Stay for dinner tomorrow. Finish your work while I work on my study guide," he mumbled.

I know it's physically impossible, unless my lips are chapped or already cut, but I think my smile is going to split my face.

Spencer grabbed his bag and trotted down the front steps, "Will do!"

TUESDAY

So Spencer came to school early the next day in a turtleneck. He slipped into Derek's classroom and dropped the history book on his desk before other students started arriving. He followed the same routine as every day before and kept his head down. In homeroom, he made clarifications and corrections in what he'd come to call "The Sexual Autopsy of Derek Morgan" notebook. He was smart enough not to write that in the actual pages, but thinking it always made him smile.

Definitely loves it rough, but only when he's in charge. Mild amounts of teeth, nothing like what he does to me. Needs to learn more about "foreplay" for himself. I think I was fairly successful in helping find most of his more sensitive areas, but certainly not all. Overall, still a work in progress.

When the bell rang, Spencer once again waited patiently for the halls to empty. He crossed the school parking lot with no sign of Derek. Past the football field. Half a block. Nothing.

Well, he didn't have to wait for me, but that's not to say a part of me didn't want him to...Nevermind.

Spencer spotted Derek leaning against the stop sign on the corner where his road split off of Spencer's route home, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground. He didn't really look up when Spencer crossed over, just started walking beside him. Again, the silence was more companionable than anything.

On arrival, Spencer wasn't startled this time by the casual, "How was your day?"

He smiled a little and pulled off his shoes, then hung up his coat. "Uneventful. Yours?"

"Not bad. I took notes today. Not quite as many as you suggested but…" Derek scratched the back of his neck and held out a few folders that he'd pulled from his backpack.

He led the way to the kitchen table this time and they sat down. Spencer read Derek's scribbled notes over quickly and teased, "Not bad considering the complete lack they're replacing."

Derek grumbled an obscenity and snatched them back, while Spencer laughed, "No, really. You'll be surprised how much easier your next tests are going to be for you."

"Better be. That shit was boring!"

Spencer shook his head and pulled out his own assignments. "Work on your study guide. This shouldn't take me long."

And he was right. Less than thirty minutes later he was free to work with Derek. They covered the next chapter, faster this time. Derek had a rather twisted interest in the famine in Ireland. Spencer wrapped it up with a brief review of the information they'd gone over the day before to make sure Derek had kept at least some of it in his head. He was surprised that the older boy remembered almost all of it.

He could have been doing this on his own the entire time… This is ridiculous. But I'm not going to complain.

He didn't complain when Derek bent him forward over the kitchen table either. Or when the first deafening smack landed on his suddenly bare ass—Where are my pants?—Soon his flesh was burning and he was sobbing, but he was so close to cumming and still hadn't found anything in this situation to complain about. Derek's voice was deep in his ear, ordering him to beg for his release. So he begged, panting with tears running down his face and splashing on the stained wood of the table. He keened when he felt teeth sink into one tingling cheek and came into the hand pumping his arousal. He licked Derek's hand cleaned without any prompting and immediately set about returning the favor. He moaned as he gulped down Derek's cum, relishing in the violent yanking of his hair.

I'm never cutting it. Never.

The hand in his hair slid away, slowly lowering him to a seated position, his head resting against the firm skin of Derek's thigh. He reveled in the gentle strokes of Derek's fingers through his hair.

"Up, Pretty Boy." The order was paired with a light tug and a free hand helping him to his feet. Derek grabbed Spencer's slacks from a chair and left him to put them on. He came back with disinfectant to wipe the table down.

Oh right. We're going to eat off of that.

"So what do we want for dinner?" Derek set the cleaner aside and leaned against the open door of the fridge.

Spencer blinked. "You can cook?"

Derek's eyes roamed the shelves. "Well, yeah. Makes it a lot easier on my mom when she works late. It's just me her, has been since I was ten. I was a bit of handful as a kid so, when I can, I try to make it up to her."

He really is perfect. Once you get past the side of him that acts his age. But it can't be healthy for a teenager to be the adult all the time.

"I see… Alright, well, what can you make with what you have?"

"Spaghetti, chicken parmesan, hamburgers, salad-blegh. We've got this tofu shit, but I'm not eating that…Stuff for tacos… Hey, can you look in that cabinet and see if we have a can of pizza sauce?" Derek waved at the cabinet over the stove.

"Um…" Spencer stood on his toes and moved a few spices that blocked his view. "Yeah, you do."

"Wanna make a pizza?"

Spencer's face lit up, "You can make your own?"

"Well, not the dough," Derek laughed. "That's takes for-fucking-ever. But we have some pizza crust and a bunch of meat and vegetables and shit, so yeah. You've never done that?"

"No, we usually stick to frozen stir-fries and that kind of thing. It's faster, so my parents can get back to lesson plans and paperwork. And I can get back to whatever I'm studying at the moment. Like last night, I decided that it would be interesting to translate the bible from its original Latin text and compare it with the popular…Sorry," Spencer cleared his throat and toyed with the pizza sauce he was holding to keep from meeting Derek's wide eyes.

"Ye-No…I mean, it's fine…I just-Anyway, do you want pepperoni?"

WEDNESDAY

The next morning Spencer was up with the sun and had downed three cups of sugary sweet coffee before practically skipping to school. He stuck to his pattern of avoidance. Worked on his translation during homeroom. Walked to the corner after school. He was startled, but surprisingly enough, not disappointed to see Aaron with Derek this time. The walk was quiet.

"How was your day?"

"Went faster than I expected."

The three boys crowded the kitchen table and Spencer had to hide his smile, but Derek caught his eye and winked.

Spencer sped through his work and reviewed a few math formulas for the upcoming midterm. Aaron pitched in to help Derek study for the third section of the test and they were just wrapping up when Derek's mother came home..

No chance of anything sexual tonight…Why am I not more upset by that?

Logically, that didn't break the official arrangement because Aaron had helped Derek study more than Spencer, so there was no real "debt" there to pay.

Spencer tried to beg out of dinner to head home, but between Derek and Ms. Morgan he was having a hard time finding a good reason.

It was Hotch who finally swayed him with a simple, "Reid, sit."

So he sat. And when he finally got back to his house, he had to hold back a blush at his parents comments that they'd never seen him happier.

THURSDAY

The next morning Spencer woke up late. He'd been up until 1 o'clock that morning finishing his translation, but it was worth it. There were nuances of the original Latin that he'd never noticed in the English translation. He couldn't wait to make a closer comparison.

Unfortunately, that still meant Spencer had to run to school without even a single cup of his precious coffee.

So when an accidental jostle in the crowded hallway knocked Spencer's books from his arms, he turned and snapped at the "giant lug" to "watch where the fuck he was going."

Spencer clapped both hands over his mouth and tensed for the coming blow—Please make it fast please make it fast—Only nothing happened.

The surrounding crowd stared in horror then took off when the warning bell rang. Spencer raised his eyes in confusion and found himself staring at a dumbfounded Mindless Drone 2.

"Dude…Boy Genius has an attitude. Never saw that coming," he commented, clearly still too shocked to absorb the situation.

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I didn't mean that! I-I'm sure you didn't mean to do that! Wait…You didn't, did you? You normally would have…What's your name again?" Spencer had never been this confused in his life.

What is the typical response when one's recently reformed tormentor does harm by accident?

"Um, nope. Sure didn't. The name's Adam," Adam slowly knelt and gathered the books Spencer had spilled. "You doing alright there, kid? You're um…Well, I mean, you're late for one thing."

"T-Thanks…I'm fine. I just overslept and didn't get my coffee. I really am sorry for snapping, but I have to get to class," Spencer scurried off as the last bell rang. Adam wandered off in the opposite direction to class, equally confused.

But the upheaval of their social climate was nothing compared to the silent amazement of the pair front office who had observed the whole altercation. Or rather, the lack of one. Prentiss and Gideon stared at the spot the two boys had occupied.

Prentiss turned to Gideon, "But I thought for sure…"

"Me, too. Me, too."

Spencer dragged himself through class, snarling mentally when he realized he'd forgotten one of his books for his next class in his rush that morning. He'd have to go back to his locker.

He yanked the metal door open and hid a flinch when a loose piece of paper fell to the ground. Spencer checked over his shoulders to see if someone was just waiting for him to get that close to the ground.

Perfect height for a solid kick to the face. It's been done before.

But no one seemed to be paying attention to him. He snatched it up and raised an eyebrow. It was just a note reading 'Come to lunch.' It wasn't in Derek's handwriting, but who else would ask him to come to lunch. Okay, demand that he come to the lunch room. He had another class period to decide whether or not to go…

No, I don't. I forgot my lunch, and apparently my brain too, this morning. No choice now. I'm starving.

Spencer slipped into the cafeteria with the rest of the herd of cattle—I mean, students—and grabbed a tray. He carefully observed the delectable choices presented by the county's Educational Nutrition Board: rectangular Pizza a la Grease; dehydrated mashed potatoes with minimal attempts at resuscitation; "fresh fruit" mysteriously preserved in a plastic mold disguised as jel-lo; an orange, watery substance advertised as mashed carrots that looked and smelled like play-doh.

Guess I'll keep starving.

He settled for the plastic fruit and bypassed the rest, exiting the line and searching a for an empty seat in a safe location. Spencer's eyes roved the cafeteria, stopping when he met twenty sets of eyes. Belonging to twenty bodies that were conspicuously not placed at their center table. And lacking all their tittering females.

The entire football team had moved two tables over, to a section barely large enough for all of the them. There was only one extra seat.

What the hell…

There was no mistaking the signal in that. Spencer inched closer to the table timidly. Derek smiled a little at him to reassure him and indicated with a flick of his eyes that Spencer was to take the seat by Adam and Mindless Drones 1 and 3. He slid hesitantly into the seat and set his useless tray down.

The team smiled at him in unison. If Spencer had been eating he would have choked.

He cleared his throat and residual grumpiness from a crappy morning came out, "You guys realize this is beyond creepy, right?"

Crap!

Adam and Derek burst out laughing, while thirty-four sets of eyes popped wide. Aaron took a sip of his milk and raised both eyebrows.

Derek managed to control himself long enough to gasp out, "What did I tell you? It's awesome!"

Spencer glared at him, "What are you talking about?"

Mindless Drone 1 silently held out a twenty ounce cup of coffee.

Spencer stared in longing and reached up a tentative hand. "I-is that mine? R-really?"

Derek tossed a bag of sugar packets down the table to him with a grin. "Sorry, kid, Adam said there weren't any IV's at the gas station to mainline it."

He didn't receive a reply, but the silence punctuated by gulps seemed to be thanks enough for all parties involved with the gift.

Spencer's day improved considerably after that. And he found out MD 1 was Mat, and MD 3 was Travis. When no one was looking he wrote all their names and physical descriptions on a notepad.

The day passed without any further variation. Spencer left the library ten minutes after the last bell and headed to Derek's. This time he was met by a group of five at the stop sign. Adam clapped him on the shoulder, then ran ahead to join his two counterparts playing chicken with vicious fenced dogs. Aaron and Derek walked silently on either side of him.

Derek lingered in the doorway with him as his kicked off his shoes. The rest of the group piled their things around the living room.

"How was your day?"

"It got better," Spencer answered with a smile.

FRIDAY

Spencer swallowed his nerves and slipped into the empty classroom and left a note on Derek's desk.

"Good luck on your test—P.B."

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Derek groaned and hit his head on his desk. Hotch was staring at his bed with morbid fascination.

"You realize I can never sit on your bed again, right? " Hotch's eyes slanted towards Derek.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But on the upside, my grades are gonna sky rocket. Kid finished this stupid pamphlet in like thirty minutes," Derek fiddled with the colorful tri-fold Spencer had typed up for him. "I even read it. It was kinda interesting. Did you know this Richard Tre-Trevi…What's-his-name made a train thing that was so heavy it broke the tracks?"

"Morgan," Hotch sighed, rubbing at early-onset worry lines on his forehead. Most of them probably due to Morgan. "At this rate, I don't know if it's safe to leave you unsupervised with Reid. Do you have any control over this anymore? Over yourself?"

Derek stared at the paper. "Dude, I don't even know…He's just so…I mean…You know?"

"No, I don't! And for God's sake, please don't try and explain. But you need to figure out how far you want this to go, before one of you gets hurt. Reid may not be as sexually advanced as you are, but he's definitely smarter and clearly more emotionally mature. This may come back to bite you in the ass."

"We'll figure something out…"

We? When the hell did this become a "we"?

Derek could tell from Hotch's expression that he was wondering the same thing.

"You know you can't bring this back to school, don't you? He may be safe from the team, because it's you, but imagine what they would have done to Reid if it wasn't and this got out. There isn't a soul in the school who doesn't already think he's gay. The team may have been his largest group of tormentors, but it isn't just them. What will those kids do when they get proof of it? If you want to turn this into something real, something open, Reid's going to need someone by his side at all times. Are you ready to commit to that?"

Derek's head dropped back onto the desk.

"Exactly. Think about it and I guess we'll ALL work from there."

"…Hotch."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

… … … End Flashback … … …


	12. Show Me the Logic

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"The way I see it, you've got three options, Morgan," Mat announced after Coach Rossi had cleared out. They'd finished the pre-game homeroom meeting and as a unit voted that returning to homeroom now was just overrated. Instead they opted to discuss Derek's love life.

"Oh, yeah? And what would they be?" Derek asked with a raised eyebrow. The rest of the team leaned forward from their slouched positions about the room. Even Aaron appeared interested in Mat's thoughts.

"The kid's in trouble either way. Since we've backed off, it won't be long before some other group decides to pick up the slack. Those really annoying poser dudes with all the piercings had eyes on him in the hallway the other day. Especially when I walked right by Boy Genius without touching him. So. You can make this ten-fucking-times worse and come out with him. We'd have to put like a protective detail or something on him. For serious," the rest of the guys mumbled in agreement. "Or, we could fake this."

"Fake it?" Derek felt dread rising.

"Yeah!" Travis chimed in, "I see where you're going. We could tell the kid the plan, and keep on him all the time," he raised his hands in surrender when both Hotch and Derek moved forward, lips pressed.

Absolutely fucking not!

"Obviously, we'd cut back on severity! It wouldn't be the real deal this time, just enough to keep everyone else guessing. But uh-ok, that's definitely a no," Travis gulped and shut up, realizing his explanation was only making the situation worse.

"Right, ok, nevermind," Mat hurried on. "So, option three. We play up your stupid act with the teachers. Make him your full-time, acknowledged tutor. Protected goods. After all, we've got to keep our second-best player on the field. The rest of student body will see it as him buying us, not us looking out for him. Teachers'll love you finally pulling your foot out of your ass and giving some effort. And it's mostly true!"

Adam was nodding beside him, "It'd be perfect. No one would question it if they saw him going home with you. It'd be like we're keeping him on leash. A pet genius is a whole lot safer in a high school than a regular genius."

At the approving chorus, Derek shook his head, "Anyone would think you guys were this supportive about my 'orientation' from the beginning."

General snorts, grumbles, and sarcastic comments echoed. Adam laughed aloud, "Amazing what ten laps per derogatory remark will do to a guy's prejudices. I think I lost 15 pounds in like two months!"

"Only cause Rob couldn't keep his damn mouth shut and get over it!"

"Shut the fuck up! I can't help being raised Puritan."

"Puritan, my lily-white ass! You think nobody knows who Christened the stairs going to the woodshop?"

"Oh, ok, I see how it's gonna be. It's not my fault Hotch made us run those laps as a team. I mean, hell man, you even had Morgan running 'em. You ran 'em! What the fuck was that anyway? You never explained, just made us shut up and run when we mouthed off about it."

Hotch rolled his eyes. He'd thought it was obvious, but apparently not. "It's a little thing called social responsibility. What's the best way to get a troublesome subordinate to follow orders singling him out and earning resentment? Get all the others to enforce the rules. You guys weren't going to do that without a little…incentive. Besides, thanks to that, we can run circles around half the teams in the county. Now you just need to step up on defense. Let's see if we can't make that happen tonight, alright?"

There was a general assent and the team fell back into mocking banter.

Derek leaned back against the lockers and smiled.

I got lucky meeting Hotch. There's no way this would have played out right without him.

The last bell rang and the guys started clearing out.

"Hey, Morgan, you should make Boy Genius come to the game tonight. Show half the school where he stands with us right off the bat."

"I'll think about that…" Morgan felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of Pretty Boy watching him play.

… … … End Flashback ... … …

Friday

Spencer stared at his lunch box. As utterly terrifying as the introduction had been, forgetting about the food, he'd really enjoyed having lunch with the team.

But will I be welcomed back today? Was it like a onetime thing? And what about everyone else… Just because one group is accepting me…

He knew the odds of make it out of the lunchroom unharrassed when the football team was his main cause for concern but now… Spencer did a quick recalculation, factoring in distance to safe zones.

Still very poor chances. Not worth the risk. Not without an invitation.

So when the lunch bell rang, Spencer headed for the library. Habit forced him to the opposite side of the hallway as he passed the second floor bathroom. It wasn't unheard of for a group to hide there until he walked by.

"Pretty Boy!"

He flinched instinctively, and turned to see Derek storming down the hallway towards him.

"Ok, so here's the jist kid. I thought you'd catch on, being a genius and all, but clearly that doesn't apply to social cues for you."

Spencer perked up, already creating a mental file for the new knowledge. Derek grabbed his arm and started pulling him back toward the cafeteria.

"That note we gave you. Did it ever say to STOP coming to lunch?"

Well…no, no it didn't.

"No."

"And was anyone an ass to you at lunch?"

Actually…no, not at all.

"Has anyone been an ass to you AT ALL recently?"

No…And there's no way I would have gotten away with getting so close to the floor to pick up that note before. But how does he…

"What did you do?" Spencer could feel his body starting to shake. He tugged desperately at his arm, trying to free himself. "What did you do?" He could hear the hysteria sliding into his voice.

Please, don't have advertised this…Please, don't ruin this…Please please please… Don't take this from me…

He couldn't take it if Derek had turned their arrangement against him. If he'd lost this… Spencer felt tears welling in his eyes and his chest heaved rapidly. He was hyperventilating.

Derek's eyes widened and he changed direction, pulling Spencer into the bathroom he'd skirted. Thankfully, it was empty.

No no no nonononono…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is this?" He wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller boy, more to restrain than comfort. Spencer had begun outright thrashing when they'd entered the bathroom, tears pouring down his cheeks. "Pretty Boy, calm down! Please, kid, somebody's gonna hear you. Shhh, it's gonna be okay. Damn it, is someone still messin' with you, baby?"

Derek pressed his lips to Spencer's ear, alternately kissing and shushing him. Slowly, Spencer felt his panic subside.

Not…not the body language of someone…someone lying to…to me.

When Spencer's body was still and his tears dried, Derek tilted his head up, looking him in the eye.

"Pretty Boy, who is it? I'll…talk to them."

Spencer swallowed and shook his head a little. "No one," he whispered, trying to fight the lightheaded feeling that always followed hyperventilation.

"Fuck that. You did not just spaz over nothing. Don't lie to me, Reid," Derek gritted his teeth. Spencer could hear the bubbling anger in his words.

"Really, no one…That's why I-I thought you'd done-that you'd said…I thought they knew about…" Spencer averted his eyes and gnawed at his lip.

His head dropped when Derek released his chin, stepping back.

"You thought I'd what? Told them? About this? All of it?" Derek's voice was flat, "Do you really think I'm that much of an asshole? That I'd tell everyone and leave you without anyone to protect you?" Derek's own voice was rising now, his temper getting the better of him. "Do you have any idea what they'd do-Of course you do." Spencer hugged himself and watched Derek breathe deeply.

He wasn't…Now I've gone and done it. I should have known. He never gave any indication of malice. Not even once since this started. Never hinted at making this public…

"C'mon. We need to eat," Derek grabbed Spencer's shoulder, propelling him out the door and down to the cafeteria.

"But Derek…"

"We'll talk about it later."

The silence when the two of them walked into the cafeteria was deafening. Derek cursed under his breath, "Fuck. I should have at least let you clean up your face. Sorry, Pretty Boy."

Spencer kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing. When Derek pushed him gently down into the empty seat beside his own at the table, Spencer didn't resist.

The silence continued.

NOW they all notice the atmosphere. Ugh, I must be so red…

Hotch's tray dropped onto the table on his other side, but he didn't sit down. Spencer looked up and saw him glaring at the onlookers.

"Do we have a problem?" His question echoed over the room. And suddenly everyone had something of interest to say and no one was looking anymore. Spencer smiled a bit and wondered what their surely overloaded brains could come up with after that.

It's probably all about the weather. I think even my brain would short out if I thought Aaron was pissed at me…

Adam cleared his throat, "Well, Morgan, you definitely reinforced our story. There isn't a soul here who doesn't think Boy Genius is under your thumb now. And Hotch and the rest of us are clearly covering for you."

Oh…

"Reid, are you alright?" Hotch's gaze flicked from Spencer to Derek and back again.

"Yeah, I just um…What is the story exactly?" Spencer pulled out his sandwich and took a bite, resolutely not looking at Derek.

Hotch looked back at Derek and sighed, "You forgot to tell him."

Spencer glanced up when Derek didn't answer. He was hunched over his tray, picking at the food.

Hotch shook his head and opened his milk carton. "It's almost exactly the truth. You're basically Morgan's tutor. The student body has interpreted that to mean that you are cheating for him in return for protection. Teachers think it's an honest arrangement, because from what I've seen of your work for him, you're remarkably good at mimicking his thought process and interests. Basically, it makes it acceptable for you to be seen with any of us, and Morgan in particular."

In return for protection… It's like the mafia… Actually, there are some fascinating similarities between the mafia and a high school setting based on—Not important right now. Apologize to Derek.

"Um…Derek…I uh…"

"I said we'll talk about it later."

"But…" Spencer trailed off at Derek's look. He turned silently back to his lunch.

Don't think about it, don't think about it. He says we'll talk. That's good right. He still wants me to come over. It'll be fine.

He felt pressure against the outside of his knee and looked down. Derek's leg was leaning purposefully against his own. Spencer relaxed.

Not that angry then. He'll probably cool down enough to be rational about it this afternoon.

He smiled a bit until an empty tray caught his eye. Several empty trays.

"How in the world do you all manage to eat that swill?" Spencer's lips curled back in almost comical disgust.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Derek's fork pause in the process of consuming said "swill." Despite being mid-chew, he managed to look righteously indignant.

"Oh!" Spencer clapped a hand over his mouth.

The team cracked up. Even Hotch's lips turned up a bit at the corners.

"Oh my god, kid, we have been missing out!" Mat clutched at his ribs and Adam attempted to wipe up the milk that had spewed from his nose.

"Fuck all of you," Derek pouted.

He didn't speak for the rest of lunch (all six minutes), but the comforting pressure of his leg against Spencer's stayed put.

Spencer fought the desire to run to the corner. He wanted to see Derek. Wanted to hear how the test went. Wanted to make a real apology for doubting him.

Mostly that last one. I feel so stupid…

He was alone this time. They fell in step and headed down the street.

Derek flipped on the light in the hallway.

"How was your day?" He wasn't looking at Spencer when he asked.

"…Embarrassing," Spencer mumbled. "Derek, I'm sorry! But I was so confused and I didn't know why no one's been bothering me and I'm really not used to having peers in my age group that I can trust and I really just-Ouch!"

Spencer's head throbbed from hitting the door and doorknob dug into his ribs. Derek pinned him in, hands on either side of his head.

"Just what? Let's say I did tell everyone. Let's say I told them all you're a fag." He grimaced at the term. "Maybe I even shared how…enthusiastic you are. So now everyone knows our pretty little genius is spreading his legs for me, probably assuming I'm fucking you, that denials are lies. Sure, most of the guys'll take the next available chance to beat your face in. Well, then my Pretty Boy wouldn't be so pretty anymore and that would suck for me. The rest though…" one of Derek's hands slid into Spencer's hair, tilting his head back. The other slipped down around his throat, wrapping tightly.

Oh no…not this. I don't have any spare clothes. Ms. Morgan will be home soon. He knows I don't last long with this…

"The rest would take it as a free for all. If you'll bend over for me, hell, you'll do it for anyone, won't you? Can you imagine? You'd walk into school and probably get fucked between every class, when the others aren't beating you. It certainly wouldn't matter to many of them that you weren't willing. They might even take turns. You'd be staggering down the halls. I doubt they'd be gentle. How long do you think you'd last, baby? A month? Maybe more? After all, you like a little pain. "

Spencer's world was a pinpoint of light and Derek's husky voice in his ear. He was fully aroused and at some point, the hand that had been in his hair had moved to undo his slacks. Derek's hand gripped him loosely, any movement more of a teasing brush than a real pull. The rational side of Spencer's mind, barely functioning now, managed to understand that this was Derek's indicator to him that not all of his anger was real. That some of it was brought on simply because he could feel Spencer responding to it.

"Tell me, Pretty Boy, since your world revolves so tightly around logic, where would the logic in that be? How would I benefit? Your pretty face ruined. You'd be to exhausted emotionally, mentally, and physically to be of any use to me academically. You wouldn't want what I have to offer even if you weren't broken. And then you would transfer. So, please, explain why I would want to announce this," Derek whispered the order, leaning in so his lips brushed across Spencer's.

Getting that close to the kiss he'd been longing for was enough to finish him off. He came into Derek's waiting hand, slumping forward when the hand at his throat fell away. Spencer obediently lapped at the hand lifted to his lips.

"Baby, I'm never gonna do that to you. Ever," Derek murmured, pressing a kiss to Spencer's temple.

Weekend

Homework. Coffee. Chess. Biblical research. Coffee. Derek research.

Jealousy…Despite never making this relationship exclusive, Derek is incredibly possessive. That's something I need to look into…

Articles on up and coming medical methods.

Sleep.

News in the field of psychology. Coffee. Chess. Coffee. More coffee. More chess. A bit more coffee. Derek research.

I don't get that jealous when I see other girls with him. He didn't even see anything. There was nothing to see. That was all hypothetical. It doesn't fit.

Sleep.

Monday

Spencer downed his last cup of coffee before heading off to school. He wondered if Derek would be getting his test back today. Hopefully, he'd actually put forth some effort this time.

Neatly penned notes slid into a folder. Two quizzes down. Time for lunch.

Spencer had to redirect his feet when he automatically started in the direction of the library.

"Ten days 'til Christmas Break!"

The team responded to Mat's announcement with cheers.

"Did you get your history test back today?"

"Yeah…Got a 98," Derek smirked, pleased with himself.

"Derek, that's great!" Spencer smiled

Adam slapped him on the back and added, "Yep, and he made a 100 on that stupid math project too! Actually, I guess you did that, kid." The table laughed.

"What math project?"

Lunch ended in an awkward silence.

He didn't ask for my help. He didn't even tell me about it. Of course, we discussed that he'd have to start doing the work on his own if he wanted further schooling after graduation…But he said he didn't know what he wanted. That wasn't even a month ago. How could he have figured it out already?

Spencer's thoughts ran circles in his head as he approached the stop sign. Derek's head snapped up and he smiled, looking relieved. Spencer tried to smile back.

"How was your day?"

He slid his shoes off and tucked gloves into his jacket pockets before hanging up his coat.

"Boring. Congratulations again on your test. And that project."

Stop being ridiculous, Spencer. Why in the world do you WANT to do his work for him?

On careful consideration, that was actually a no-brainer.

"Thanks," Derek rubbed the back of his head. "I wanted to see if it was worth the time to do one on my own."

"And what did you find?" Spencer hid clenched fists as they headed up the stairs.

"It wasn't that bad. Just dull."

"Ah…Do you have any new assignments?"

Derek sat down at his desk and turned on his computer. "Four page paper. Due on Thursday."

"You're going to write it?" Spencer's insides twisted. A small project was one thing. Denying help on a whole paper…

"Fuck no! It's supposed to be a comparison of Shakespeare's style between four pieces. I'm not going to read that shit. But you've already read all of it, I'm sure," Derek said, smiling and holding out his arm.

The knots dissipated and Spencer tried not to look to eager.

"Um…Am I going to type standing?" Spencer moved forward, letting Derek's arm circle about his waist.

"Nope," Derek yanked him into his lap unceremoniously, making Spencer yelp and glare. "You're going to sit in my lap."

The paper was finished and so was Spencer. He barely managed to push the keyboard out of the way before cumming across the desk. He shuddered when Derek whispered into his ear, "I think I should make you lick it up, don't you?"

Tuesday

"How was your day?"

"One of the brilliant minds in Chemistry spilled acid on his…," Spencer waved in the general area of his crotch.

"Ouch! That's messed up."

"Thankfully, it was very weak," Spencer chuckled.

"Pretty Boy, I can't believe you're laughing at him. That genius brain of yours is twisted." Derek dropped his bag by the sofa.

"No new assignments?"

"I have a quiz tomorrow, but I know the material. Thanks to you, fucking note Nazi," Derek grumbled. "A few chapters to read."

"Then you should-"

"Later. I want to watch a movie with you. What's one you haven't seen?"

Spencer smiled brightly and nearly tripped over the coffee table to look at the selection.

"Um… this one."

"Perfect."

Spencer bounced on the sofa and waited for Derek to start the movie. He blushed brightly when the older boy pulled him over, positioning Spencer to recline against his chest. They didn't move until Spencer's stomach was rumbling louder than the movie.

"Dinner time, Pretty Boy," Derek laughed.

Spencer pouted, not really wanting to move yet.

Take the initiative. He loves that. Say something coy…

"Can I have dessert first?" Spencer twisted and slid to his knees, resting his head on Derek's thigh.

That sounded unbelievably childish. There's no way it's going to work.

Derek's jaw dropped.

Nevermind.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV… … …

Where the hell is he? I know he didn't really want to, but he'd definitely show right? Right?

Derek scanned the crowd for at least the fiftieth time. Coach was gonna bench him for sure, but he didn't care. He didn't want to play tonight anyway if the kid wasn't here to watch.

When did that ever matter? He's never been to any of the games. It didn't make a difference in two years and it shouldn't now.

But it did.

The kid's not here. Just get the fuck over it.

"Derek!"

Except he is here. Right there. Where the hell was he? Under the bleachers?

"What exactly has you—"

"Have you been here this whole fucking time?"

Where was he?

"Well, yes I—"

Why didn't he wave or something…

"Where?"

"Were you looking for me? Is that why you haven't—"

Damn it all!

"Where. Were. You?"

"I-I'm uh… sitting on Greenwood's side," Spencer tugged at his hair.

Derek's anger gave way to confusion, "Why are you over there?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the students in our school don't really accept—UGH!"

Derek snarled when a shove bent Spencer forward over the sharp exposed points of the fence.

I'm gonna kill that kid.

He stormed up the walkway from the field and grabbed Spencer's arm. The kid flinched away and Derek felt his dinner crawling up his esophagus.

"Fuck, it's just me, Pretty Boy. Come on, you're sitting down on the field."

No one's ever going to touch him again.

"I don't think Coach Rossi allows this. Besides, I left my bag on Greenwood's side. I was fine over there so I'll just go back…" Derek's eyes narrowed, some of his rage bleeding over.

You're not leaving my sight.

"I want you over here. Go get your stuff, I'll talk to Rossi." Derek released him with a gentle push. "Go."

… … … End Flashback … … …


	13. Accidents Happen

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Thank God he stayed in the hallway.

Derek wasn't sure he could have handled it if Spencer had followed them into the locker room after the game. He shut off the water in the shower stall and leaned his forehead against the tiled wall. He could faintly hear Hotch talking to Rossi out by the lockers. The rest of the team was long gone.

Toweling off, Derek thought back to the little idiot Rossi had kicked off the field. He was still furious at those assholes. Still furious that the kid wasn't furious.

Derek snarled under his breath and pulled out his clothes. A stumble while he was pulling on his jeans knocked his shoulder against the sharp corner of his locker door. Derek slammed the offending door shut so hard it bounced back open. He lifted a fist to hit it again, but a tanned hand got to it first.

"Do I need to send you out for a cool down lap before you take your boy home, Morgan?" Rossi asked, keeping his tone even and non-confrontational.

Hotch stood by the door, watching with a raised eyebrow.

I swear, he has only four facial expressions. Eyebrows flat, left up, right up, both up. Ass.

"No, sir," Derek gritted out. He sat down and tried the calming breaths again.

Crap, I should have denied that.

"And he's not mine, Coach. Reid's just the kid who's tutoring me." He winced at how false that rang in his ears. He sucked at lying to Rossi.

Hotch snorted and rolled his eyes, both eyebrows up now. Derek glared at him.

"Of course," Rossi humored him. "Because when I was your age, I always got that distracted when my "tutor" didn't show up for my games."

Derek used the excuse of pulling his shirt on to avoid answering.

"Whatever. I don't know what you're trying to pull, but if you're going to keep up stunts like tonight's, you need to make him a fixture instead of an oddity. Just let me know if he's gonna be a regular next season."

"Will do, Coach," Derek grumbled, still miffed at Hotch.

The three exited out into the hallway, where Spencer still waited. He was leaning against the wall, looking like nothing so much as an abandoned puppy. Derek let his eyes rove him over now that he had a minute.

Looks good in jeans. Having the shirt untucked suits him too. Makes him more relaxed. More approachable. Easier to strip. He'd look better without the jeans… Fuck. Hotch was right. I can't be trusted alone with him. Especially not tonight.

Spencer smiled weakly in response to Hotch and Rossi's farewells. Now he watched Derek expectantly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Come on, Pretty Boy. I'll walk you home."

"Okay…" Derek groaned inwardly when the kid's shoulders slumped

He just can't make this easy on me.

They headed out the front doors and were partway out of the front parking lot when it started to sprinkle.

You've got to be kidding me.

At the sidewalk, it turned into a light rain.

Someone up there has it out for me. That's the only explanation for this.

Half a block, a steady rain. End of the first block, a down pour.

"Fuck it, your house is too far and I'm not walking back in this."

Derek grabbed Spencer's wrist and took the turn that lead to his own house.

I can do this. I'm stronger than my hormones. He'll sleep on the couch. I'll stay in my room. I can do this. It'll be fine.

By the time they reached the shelter of Derek's porch, both were soaked to the bone and shivering in the chilly air. Derek could hear the heavy crinkling of Spencer's windbreaker behind him as he pulled it off. He tried not to picture it and pulled his own jacket off. He twisted the dripping fabric, getting as much excess water out as he could. A cold wind brought his attention to a bared patch of skin at his waist. There was a wet plop and Derek turned to tell the kid he didn't have to leave his jacket on the ground.

At least he'd planned to say that. Or something like that.

He looked from the dropped clothing to Spencer's slowly glazing eyes. From there to his flushed cheeks, parted lips, dripping hair, clinging shirt, and…jeans. No slacks, no vest, no undershirt. For Spencer, that was practically naked.

I was gonna say something, right?

Derek swallowed, attempting to wet a suddenly dry throat.

Whatever it was, it's obviously not important. Not as important as finding out when I can bend Pretty Boy over and fuck him properly.

"When's your birthday?" Derek gritted out, the hand holding his jacket fisting tightly.

I'm gonna tie him to the headboard and keep him there for the entire day.

"W-what?"

Derek reached out and grabbed Spencer's shirt by the collar, pulling him forward.

"Your birthday, Pretty Boy. How old are you right now?" Derek asked again, clenching his jaw.

"J-January uh…January…"

Jesus Christ, it's not a tough question, Genius!

"I'm fourteen! Fifteen on January 9th," Spencer finally managed, stumbling when Derek released him and stepped away.

Fuck. I don't even know if I'm gonna make it 'til THIS January! Another whole year… Breathe. Breathe. Get him dry. That's step one. Get him out of those clothes, dry, and out of your room as fast as possible.

"Take off your shoes and go to my room. I'll get us some towels and try to find clothes that won't fall off of you."

Derek shook from the sheer amount of willpower it took to keep his hands off the younger boy. It took two attempts to get the door unlocked. He kicked off his shoes and headed to the first floor bathroom to get extra towels. He could hear the stairs creak with Spencer's footsteps.

When he'd found two of the thicker towels, Derek headed up to his room. He stopped in the doorway and stared, the tremors that had finally abated returning full force. Spencer stood on the far side of his bed, his sopping wet shirt hanging open and clinging to his slender shoulders.

The kid's not just a part-time whore. He's a stripper. Everything makes sense now. Or I've died and gone to Hell. That's more likely. How am I supposed to wait a fucking year?

Spencer stepped forward, "Are you that cold?"

"I'm not cold! Stay over there," Derek snapped, throwing Spencer a towel and turning away. He rummaged in a dresser drawer and pulled out a white t-shirt and light-weight pajama pants. He tossed them on the bed without turning around. "Those should fit you well enough for tonight."

If you value your virginity, Pretty Boy, don't come over here.

Derek pulled his shirt over his head and tried not to listen to the tell-tale sounds of stripping behind him.

Just focus on yourself. Lalalalala… Holy shit, he's not where he's supposed to be!

Derek felt his muscles tighten to the point of pain when chilled fingers ghosted over his shoulder blades.

Self-control. Deep breath. Ok, one more. Now tell him to get away before you do something you both regret.

"Pretty Boy, I told you to st—Ah!" Derek jerked forward, feeling teeth sink into his shoulder blade. He pushed off the dresser, knocking Spencer back onto the bed, and spun around. "What the hell was that?"

Derek's body began to shake again, resultant of trying not to pounce on the boy bent backwards over his bed. In his clothes.

Spencer lifted his eyes to Derek's face. He licked his lips and pushed up off the bed, moving to stand in front of Derek, "I wanted to taste you again." He paused, clearly nervous, then lifted one hand to hover over Derek's hip, brushing lightly with his fingertips. "Can I…please?"

Derek shuddered.

How am I supposed to say no to that?

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer decided Derek's statue-like stillness would have to count for acquiescence, because the only thing moving was his mouth, but nothing came out. Spencer smiled a bit. It really was nice having the upper-hand from time to time.

Once he'd settled comfortably between spread legs, Spencer slowly undid Derek's belt, carefully documenting his reactions. He had to assume that clenching thigh muscles were an exertion of self-control, because Derek still hadn't made any other movement. He'd even closed his mouth.

There was something you wanted to try…What was it? Something you thought he'd like…Oh, yes. That was it.

When the belt was hanging open and he'd gotten the troublesome button undone, Spencer let his fingertips slide lightly over Derek's twitching muscles to wrap lightly around solid calves. He might need that hold for additional balance.

"Pretty Boy…" Derek finally spoke.

Just go for it. You're research has been almost dead on every time so far.

Spencer released tense muscles and leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close to Derek's groin. With a flick of his tongue, Spencer lifted the zipper tab and attempted to catch it with his teeth. He missed on the first try, but hid it with a teasing nuzzle to the rapidly stiffening organ. Gratified by Derek's throaty moan, Spencer tried it again.

He's never become erect so quickly before I actually began fellatio, not without some other form of stimulation. No, it's not fellatio. It's a blow job. Head. Sucking him off. Going down on hi-SHUT UP AND DO IT!

Spencer's second endeavor to catch the elusive piece of metal was a success. After making sure his grip was solid, Spencer slowly pulled, moving simultaneously outward and down. He slid down to sit back on his heels, effectively unzipping Derek's jean with his teeth.

From his kneeling position, Spencer looked up through lowered lashes to observe Derek's expression.

Definitely one for the notebook.

His eyes were wide and glazed, his lips parted and swollen from being bitten. His hands…

Where did his other hand—

"Ah!"

The missing hand wrenched Spencer's head backward.

"Open wide, baby," Derek growled. He pressed his cock past Spencer's partially open lips.

Spencer happily obliged, relaxing his jaw and spreading his tongue to cover his teeth.

This works too.

The results turned out better than he had hoped. Derek fucked his throat with abandoned. To Spencer's recollection, he'd never lost control quite this early on. He had the exact number of minutes somewhere in his memory, but at the moment it escaped him. Understandably preoccupied.

He almost gagged several times, but Derek's groans when his throat convulsed made the discomfort more than worth it. Spencer whined softly when Derek pulled away, tilting his head back to an almost painful angle.

"Pretty Boy, if you wanna cum tonight, it's on you."

Spencer's eyes widened. He used what minimal mobility he had to shake his head.

Derek chuckled, his smirk becoming almost cruel. Spencer felt the heat pooling in his stomach flare.

"You think I haven't noticed that you never touch yourself? You're gonna have to work for it this time."

Spencer whimpered and grabbed at Derek's hips. Just the feeling of Derek emptying into his mouth would be enough to prompt his own release.

"Uh-uh. You don't get to use me to do it, either," Derek managed to sound almost conversational as he pulled further away.

He held Spencer in place with one hand. With the other he fisted himself slowly.

No! He was already so close… He won't last much longer.

Biting his lip, Spencer caved. He clumsily worked at his slacks and pulled his own arousal free. He couldn't hold back a hiss at the unfamiliar feeling. Usually, by the time it was his turn, Spencer was too far gone to notice the initial contact. At the moment, he focused on it quite clearly.

His hands were much cooler and softer than Derek's. He'd recognized the difference that first time in bathroom, but since then he'd only felt Derek's touch, if any at all. Spencer's fingers were longer, able to touch the tip of his erection without stretching.

Spencer moaned at the feeling. For all his research of Derek, he hadn't spent much time on himself. But he knew one thing he undeniably wanted. He lifted his eyes to Derek's and opened his mouth wide, bucking into his own fumbling touch.

"That's it, baby," Derek sank back into his mouth with a groan, pushing forward until he hit the back of Spencer's throat. Spencer moaned around the hot length when he found a way to twist his hand just so.

The conglomeration of sensations brought a swift climax for both of them.

Wednesday

Spencer sat down to the lunch table and concentrated on not blushing when he looked at Derek. That morning had been a challenge. His typical morning arousal ended up being especially hard to dispel now that he'd gained some experience in pleasuring himself. But he knew any release he found would be nothing compared to what he reached when he was with Derek, and that was enough to discourage him.

Nods from the team. Playful banter across the table. Spencer was amazed at how non-threatening they actually were. And mildly disturbed that the people he associated with had at one point found nearly drowning him in a toilet amusing.

That curiosity may have to fall into the category of high school's mind-boggling mysteries… Never to be understood.

"How did your math quiz go?" Spencer looked to Derek.

"Easy. I told you, I have that shit down," Derek boasted.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow and drank his milk. Mat threw his fork on his tray.

"Excuse me! That thing was crap. We didn't cover half that material and she never told us to memorize that dumbass unit circle!"

"Yes, we did and yes, she did. It's all in my notes."

Aaron set his milk down. "Your notes?" No one else at the table seemed capable of speaking.

"What? I took notes. Is that so hard to believe?"

"YES!"

Spencer observed the exchange, eating his sandwich and listening with interest.

This is almost like one of those reality television shows…Only exponentially more entertaining because that reality is so disgustingly scripted.

"…Ok, you know what, my fucking 'tutor' made me!" Derek pointed an accusing finger across the table at Spencer.

He almost choked on his sandwich.

"Wait, you're like ACTUALLY tutoring him?" Rob was incredulous.

Aaron quirked both eyebrows. Spencer carefully swallowed his bite.

"Well, it's not like I can take his tests for him… What good are a few excellent grades on homework and papers if he still fails the tests that make up 45% of his grade?"

They really didn't think this plan through at all.

"Hotch! I want a tutor!"

"And what would you like me to do about that? Do I look like your father?"

Adam opened his mouth.

"Don't answer that. If you all remember correctly, I didn't set this arrangement between Morgan and Reid up. You three did." Aaron swept a bland look over the three stooges.

"…Hey, Reid…" Travis put on his sweetest tone, typically reserved for conning parents of his girlfriends.

"What? Now wait a minu—"

"Me, too!"

"Come on, you can't let Morgan show us up!"

"Yeah, man, he already whips us on the field. We gotta be better at something."

"Hold on, I can't tutor twenty of you! That's like a whole class!"

This is getting out of hand…

"Dude, no offense, but I'm good. I can actually pass my classes on my own," Rob laughed.

"Fuck you!"

"Shut up, Mat. I wouldn't need your assistance, either, Reid," Aaron pointed out, finishing his milk. "Neither would Chandler, Cooper, or Jones."

"Oh great, just fifteen then," Spencer deadpanned, sarcasm tangible.

They have got to be joking.

"Our parents would pay you."

"…How much?"

"Reid, seriously!" Spencer only smiled at Derek's petulant glare.

Derek slammed the door shut behind them and stormed up the stairs to his room. Spencer kicked his shoes off and ran after him.

"Derek, come on, why are you so mad? It wouldn't be every single night. And if I tutor the team here, I'll still be with you after school. I can work with them for two hours an afternoon and then we can kick them out."

"Then you'll leave an hour later," Derek snapped.

"Well, I have to go home eventually!"

Derek grumbled and stomped over to his desk, dropping down to type a paper with the outline he'd made with Spencer.

Spencer gave up and pulled out his own homework. When he'd finished, he watched Derek type for a while.

What does he want me to do? Does he want…what I want?

"…Would it help if I spent the night on Fridays and stayed most of Saturday?"

The typing stopped. Derek lifted his right shoulder in a half shrug.

Immediate loss of tension in the shoulders and upper back. Straighter posture. Knees fell open. Calves relaxed to put heels on the floor.

Spencer's lips stretched in a smile. To loosely translate the body language of Derek Morgan, that was as definitive 'yes'.

Thursday

This corner is getting a little crowded. Oh well, midterms are next week, so I shouldn't be surprised.

Twenty boisterous football players milled about the stop sign.

"Hey, Reid!" Mat called.

Spencer suspected he would have waived, but he was busy holding Travis in a headlock.

I found a term for this on Urban Dictionary…Oh yes. Bromance. I wonder if it applies when three individuals are involved?

Adam slammed the two interlocked boys to the ground with a flying tackle. They knocked Rob over into Chandler and the two bystanders promptly joined the pile. Cooper, Jones, and—What was his name?—Anderson leaped on top.

Stepping around the squabbling mass, Spencer turned to Aaron and Derek.

"If it was all of you, why didn't you just grab me at school?"

"They were here when I got here." Derek glared at the offending crowd, now ringing the heap that appeared to be made solely of legs and arms.

"Ah…Aaron, I figured you'd come anyway, but…Why are the other four here?"

Aaron stared at the eight panting boys on the ground. "They were supposed to be here to help you. We'd be better off without them."

Derek turned and started towards his house, Spencer and Aaron trailing behind.

"Shouldn't we get them…?" Spencer glanced back at the group.

"They know where I live and they'll notice we're gone eventually."

Sure enough, "Hey, guys, wait up!"

"Can we order pizza?"

Friday

This is either some sort of drug deal, or an organized mass mugging…Scratch that. Protection money?

When Spencer reached the corner, the players all had their wallets out and were passing money to Aaron.

I knew it! Our school has created a teenage-version mafia and Aaron is the Boss. Which explains why—

Aaron split the stack in half and held one half out to Spencer, who blinked stupidly for a moment.

Or maybe that's not it.

"It's for tutoring, Reid. The other half is for the pizza these bottomless pits are going to put away." Derek's smirk was audible.

"Fuck you! My mother says I'm a growing young man!"

"Your body is directionally challenged then, Travis."

"What?"

"You're growing the wrong way."

Rob took off down the street, an incensed Travis chasing after him.

Spencer pocketed the money and fell into step with Aaron and Derek, the rest of the team meandering behind.

Travis and Rob began their bickering again when the two hour study session was long over and the pizza had arrived.

It started with Travis consuming his twelfth slice of pizza in two hours. Resulting in a mocking comment from Rob. Followed with a dive over the kitchen table by Travis to tackle Rob. Leading to Spencer, who had been standing beside Rob, lying prone on the floor with a box of still warm cheese pizza upended on his chest. And one slice on top of his head. Prompting general hysteria amongst the teenagers crammed into the kitchen. It ended with Mrs. Morgan collapsed against the wall in tears, shaking with silent laughter, and Derek informing the entire team, with colorful embellishment, that they could finish their dinner outside on the lawn. Aaron shut the back door behind them, leaving instructions to go home when they'd finished eating and cleaned up their trash.

Derek helped his gasping mother into a chair, while Aaron removed the pizza from Spencer's stunned body and helped him up.

"You gonna be ok, Ma?" Derek stepped back, observing her warily as she wiped her eyes.

"Ahahaha yes, yes I'll be fine. You should-hahaha- get Spencer cleaned up. Oh, oh my heehee-that will stain. Go on," she said with a smile, catching her breath at last.

"I'll clean this up, Morgan. Reid…Reid?"

Spencer was plucking at his shirt, pulling strings of cheese off. He lifted a chunk of his greased hair, red with pizza sauce.

Derek's eyes widened and he hurried forward, putting both hands on Spencer's shoulders.

"Crap, kid, I'm sorry about this. It was an accident, it really was. They weren't trying to…"

Spencer knew Derek was rambling on trying to excuse the boys' actions, to assure Spencer that it wasn't a relapse into prior behaviors.

Because it wasn't. It wasn't at all. This is something my peers at that school have wanted to do to me for years, for the sake of my humiliation and degradation. And now they've done it. But it was purely accidental. Coincidental, in fact, that I was standing beside Rob when it happened. It could have been any of the others. I just experienced innocent rough-housing with students of my age group (or as close as it gets) during which an accidental (but truly amusing) event occurred, in no way directed at me, that resulted in my being covered in food. …These people are my friends. I have actual friends. I haven't had real friends since elementary school…

Derek's increasingly frantic rant stopped midsentence.

Spencer's shoulders had started shaking violently.

"Oh God, Pretty Boy, it's gon—"

"Hahahahahahahahah-Aha-aha-ahahahaha." Spencer couldn't stop laughing. Derek stared at him in horror. Aaron's lips quirked in bemusement. Mrs. Morgan simply smiled indulgently, seemingly following the chaotic train of Spencer's thoughts.

It crossed Spencer's mind that he should do something to alleviate Derek's concerns. So, opting to try what felt most natural in the joy of the moment, Spencer stood on his toes, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Derek's.

SHIT! That's against the rules that's against the rules that's against the rules—Who's laughing?

Spencer flew back, clapping both hands over his mouth, eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. Derek's arms hung by his side, his mouth hanging open. Aaron was watching Mrs. Morgan who had returned to clutching her sides.

Oh crap…

Derek jerked back into motion. "Ma, I can explain. See—"

"Oh, honey-ahaha-y-you think I didn't know?" She waived the explanation away with a breathless laugh. "You don't treat Spencer like any friend I've ever known you to have, sweetheart. I figured the first time you brought him home that Spencer was part of the mess Aaron had a talk with you about. Of course, now that you've made the hunch a fact, Spencer, I'm going to have to insist you sleep in the spare bedroom when you stay over." Mrs. Morgan winked as she said this, to Spencer's immense confusion. "Now, Derek, get him cleaned up. Aaron and I can handle the kitchen."

Derek didn't speak when he handed Spencer the clothes he'd worn the first time he spent the night. He didn't speak when he took Spencer's dirty clothes from him, whilst Spencer hid behind the shower curtain.

I ruined it again. It was a simple rule. No kissing. I've gotten more than I could have ever hoped for from him, but I just had to get greedy. I'll leave first thing in the morning.

Derek didn't speak when the two of them headed downstairs to help clean up. He voluntarily sat down for another hour to study alone for his upcoming midterms. He barely acknowledged Aaron's bid goodnight when his parents called him home at 11 o'clock. Or his mother's thirty minutes later.

In fact, he didn't make any direct attempt at communication until Spencer stood up and asked softly, unable to meet his eyes, "Derek, where exactly is the spare bedroom?"

Derek shot to his feet, so abrupt Spencer stumbled backwards. He headed up the stairs, clearly expecting Spencer to follow.

It's upstairs? Why not make me sleep on the couch? It's further away from him.

Spencer stopped when he reached the landing and stared, thoroughly baffled. Derek was indicating the door almost directly across from his own. Based on the color of the walls and the style of decorations, the room was probably used most often by a visiting grandmother.

What's the point of this? There is not nearly enough spatial deterrent to keep us apart. Add to that the fact that we're basically without a chaperone up here, she might as well have given her permission for us to—Oh. Well. I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan, but I made a rather large mess of your intentions. We won't be doing anything tonight, or any other night.

Spencer kept his eyes on the carpet as he slipped by Derek. He set his bag down by the bed and turned to shut the door, only to find a warm body blocking his way.

"Derek?" Spencer finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye. The heat he found burning there went straight to his groin.

Derek's arms slid around him, traveling up his back to slide smoothly into his slightly damp hair, massaging his scalp gently. Against his better judgment, Spencer's body began to relax.

"Pretty Boy, what was that?" Derek's voice was disarmingly tender.

"What? Y-you mean the um…the kiss?" Spencer fought to concentrate, but the rhythmic circles of Derek's fingertips were distracting.

"Is that what you think it was? A kiss?" Still so soothing.

"Y-yes?"

Was there another word for it? Urban Dictionary didn't have one that I found…

"Kid, you have a lot to learn." Spencer felt nails rake across his scalp and his lips parted in a soft sigh. "Let me show you want a kiss is."

Hands fisted in his hair and pulled down, tilting his head backwards as Derek's lips crushed his own.

Derek didn't ask for permission or wait for adjustment. He forced his tongue past Spencer's parted lips and raped him orally. Tongues twined, teeth clacked.

Spencer moaned into Derek's mouth, feeling his knees give out. Derek accommodated by backing (dragging) Spencer to the bed and forcing him down. He crawled over the younger boy, keeping lips fused with the grip on Spencer's hair.

Spencer whimpered when the hands in his hair disappeared, but a brutal tongue chased the complaint away. They reappeared soon enough. One pinning his wrists over his head, stretching his arms so far as to border on uncomfortable. The other pressed his hip into the mattress, keeping him immobile.

A muscled thigh forced its way between his own, grinding into the erection Spencer hadn't even realized was forming. All he could feel was Derek's lips on his.

Spencer tasted metal and felt a faint ache in his lower lip. Derek had split it with the pressure of his kiss. For some twisted reason, this only made Spencer burn hotter. He bucked and battled for dominance of the kiss, wanting to taste more of Derek, but lost pathetically. Derek's hips ground down harder and he pulled Spencer's wrists until he submitted, letting Derek take as he pleased.

Spencer sobbed into the kiss when he felt a breeze across his arousal, only to have it replaced by a heated hand and another foreign pressure, the flesh silken and hotter than his own. Only when the grip slid upwards, making him sob and Derek groan, did Spencer recognize it.

He was nearly delirious from lack of oxygen when they came together, moaning simultaneously.

When Derek finally pulled back, both he and Spencer were gasping and flushed. Blood smeared their lips and Spencer's chin.

"That, Pretty Boy, was a kiss."

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"Hotch, what do I want to do with my life?" Derek stared listlessly at the classroom ceiling.

"Am I your life, as well as relationship and sex, counselor now, Morgan?" Hotch rubbed the creases in his forehead.

"Yes."

"Then I quit. I'm on strike. I'm taking a holiday. Come back after I graduate."

"But you were so good at helping me cope with the sadism thing and—"

"Shut up! Dear God, I'll do anything you want, just please don't make me relive that discussion again. It was too much information then, and it's too much now," Hotch pleaded.

"Ok, ok. I just…What do I want to do after I graduate? Do I want to go to a university? Get the four year degree and all that shit? Or just go to a tech school and get a job? Or…I mean what else is there?"

"When did you start thinking about that?"

Guess he's right to ask. Never thought much past high school before.

"Well, the kid and I were talking and he was spouting off about test scores and schools and futures…And he's got all these plans, I bet. I know you do, you're already applying to colleges. Half the team has eyes on some kind a something after this. I'm just sorta here."

"Reid has a point. You need to start thinking about it. But you don't have to decided today, or tomorrow. You should probably figure it out before next year though. What's sounded best to you so far that you've thought of?"

"Hmph…I guess…I want a degree. I wanna make my mom proud. Don't wanna let Rossi down, either. He's been on my case to meet my 'potential' since he got here. And…I don't want the kid to think he's wasted his time on me." Derek muddled through the last part of that statement. It sounded loaded.

"Wasted his time tutoting you? Or wasted his time…being with you?"

Fuck. That's cause it was loaded. This is getting too complicated.

… … … End Flashback … … …


	14. Key to My Chastity Belt

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Derek shifted from foot to foot, not sure how to deal with the kid now that he was here. He watched Spencer remove his shoes and struggled to find something to fill the silence. What did people say in situations like this? Derek knew what he wanted to get around to, but not how to get there.

"How was your day?" Derek leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, glaring at the floor like it had offended him.

I think I just made this unnecessarily awkward.

"Um…Long…" Spencer looked at him questioningly. "How was yours?

Derek shrugged. "Same I guess. Had a math test. I don't think I failed it. So…I didn't see you around much today."

He should have at least come to lunch.

"You usually don't. We don't have many classes together and I don't like to attract attention in the halls…"

Derek wasn't sure how to approach the open ended question.

When in doubt, avoid.

"True," Derek straightened and headed into the living room. "You should call your parents and tell 'em you came home with me."

Avoidance is not going to bring him back to my house. Don't be a pansy.

"Actually…" Derek gripped the door frame and stared fixedly at a spot on the wall over Spencer's head.

Just say it. It's not going to get any easier if you wait.

"You should probably tell them you'll be coming home with me every day. Unless you have, like, family plans or something."

Derek turned abruptly and retreated back into the living room before Spencer could respond.

If I were any paler, I'd be blushing. That was so embarrassing.

Derek was pretending to study his history when Spencer sat down beside him, a fair distance away.

"What's your homework for tonight?"

"There's nothing due tomorrow. I just have this history test coming up on Friday. It's covering three chapters and I figured you probably wouldn't want to help me cram the night before," Derek grinned a little ruefully.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Gosh, I appreciate that. Alright, we'll do a chapter a day and an overall review Thursday night. Your teacher's Ms. Haverty, right? She's a fan of throwing in a few random details only mentioned in class. I don't suppose you took thorough notes?"

Derek cleared his throat and held out five sheets of paper. Spencer stared at him until he set the papers back down and looked away, sheepish.

"…When we're done, you're going to tell me your classes and who's teaching them, and I'm going to tell you how many pages of notes you should be averaging per day. Now, what chapter are you on?"

Half an hour later, Derek was bored out of his mind. But he knew the chapter like the back of his hand.

And now that work is done…

"I'll take your book home and make study guides for the other two chapters tonight. You can have them in the morning, okay?" Spencer looked up to find Derek watching him with a faint smirk, eyes gleaming. He cleared his throat, "Ummm…yes?"

"We're done now, right?" Derek asked, his smirk growing minutely.

"I-I guess s-AH! Derek!" Spencer yelped as Derek took a fistful of his hair and used it to twist him about forcefully and shove him face first into the couch.

"Good. I have a couch to break in. Do you own any turtlenecks, Pretty Boy?" Derek growled, pinning Spencer down with his body weight.

Those marks didn't last long enough. Pretty Boy's gonna be a walking bruise tomorrow.

"Y-yeah…"

"Perfect."

When Derek collapsed back onto the arm of the couch forty-five minutes later, Spencer was shirtless and his torso was covered in cum, both his own and Derek's. Beneath the milky white coating was a fresh collection of bites marks, far more vivid than the yellowing bruises they replaced. His hip bones bore matching sets. This time, the trail ended halfway up his neck. The hickies hid the faint handprint shaped bruise that circled his throat. His wrists were red and raw from being pinned and twisted.

The kid had never looked more lascivious. Derek needed to get him cleaned up before he finished what he'd started. He leaned over Spencer's prone body.

"You alive, Pretty Boy?" Derek chuckled.

Spencer made some sort of expression that Derek was fairly certain was supposed to be a smile, and his insides warmed in response. Derek wiped the mess from his stomach with a damp cloth and smiled when the younger boy stretched like a cat. When he'd finished, Derek grabbed the shirt that had ended up on the far side of the room and tossed it back to Spencer, who looked reluctant to move.

"C'mon, you can do it," Derek laughed. "I can't have my mother thinking, well, knowing that I defiled her precious sofa."

"You sound so apologetic," Spencer quipped, muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.

Derek stalked closer silently. When the shirt finally came down, he buried a hand in Spencer's hair, twinning through the tangled strands. "Tell me that you are," Derek made his tone husky and promising, intentionally messing with Spencer's head. He was pleased to see the kid respond so well, exposing his battered neck with no resistance.

"That's what I thought," Derek released him and gathered his pitiful excuse for notes, tucking them into their folder.

"So where is your mother? Isn't she usually home by now?"

"Works late on Mondays and Tuesdays," Derek called as he headed up the stairs to put his school bag away.

So I have you all to myself… Or apparently not.

Spencer was putting on his shoes where Derek came back down.

"Going home?" Stay.

"Yeah, I told my mother I'd be home for dinner. And I have homework to get done, too." Spencer turned and grabbed his coat.

I want you to stay.

Derek saw a broad smile stretch Spencer's lips.

And you obviously don't want to.

"Who the fuck gets this happy about homework?" Derek was rapidly losing a battle with his temper.

"Not about homework," he laughed, starting to zip up his jacket.

"What then?"

What replaces me at night?

"You."

…Uh.

Derek was both speechless and thoughtless. He stared dumbfounded for several moments. Then he swatted Spencer's hands out of the way and pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way up to hide his abused throat.

Then next time…stay. Please?

"Stay for dinner tomorrow. Finish your work while I work on my study guide," he mumbled.

Spencer grabbed his bag and trotted down the front steps, "Will do!"

Mine.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer tried to gather tumbling thoughts when Derek pulled away. He wanted another kiss like that. Wanted more than a kiss really, but he'd take anything Derek was willing to offer.

I have to redo at least half of my research. This changes the parameters completely. A kiss indicates a far greater emotional involvement than simple physical pleasure. If a kiss is possible then… Unless I'm reading too much into all of this. That wasn't a soul-searching kiss, it could have simply been another expression of dominance because I—

"Ungh!" Spencer arched, grunting at the feel of rough denim pressing threateningly against his hypersensitive cock.

"Pretty Boy, exactly what does a guy have to do to keep your attention?" Derek's voice was rough in his ear, displeasure woven through the question.

"You have it, you do, I promise!"

Derek shifted to sit back on his heels to straddle Spencer, who held in a whimper at the lost contact. He tried not squirm under Derek's cool gaze.

I don't understand this complex. He's expressed concerns over this several times and it makes no sense. Why does he doubt his ability to hold my interest? A young man with as much experience as Derek has should be flaunting it. He should be feeling particularly full of himself right now, following a successful display of dominance and mastery of a skill. Such a conundrum—Now is not the time for this, Spencer. Assuage his concerns, or he might not kiss you again… Crap, he might not want to kiss me again!

"I just-I was hoping-can we do that again? Frequently?"

Derek smirked slightly—Reassurance accomplished—and leaned down, brushing his lips over Spencer's teasingly. "Yeah, kid, we can do it again. But we gotta let this heal first," he stipulated. Derek gripped Spencer's chin in one hand and ran his thumb over the broken skin. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You look like I smacked you."

Spencer clambered off the bed and trailed happily behind Derek into the bathroom. He perched on the edge of the tub while Derek retrieved a washcloth and ran warm water over it. At Spencer's recommendation he added a small amount of soap.

"You know that's gonna make it sting more," Derek cautioned, working it into a light lather.

Spencer shrugged. "Maybe so, but our lips come in contact with a minimum of one thousand pathogens on a daily basis. They lack the oils our skin produces to act as a pathogenic barrier. Saliva plays a small role as an antibacterial agent, but it's not 100% effective."

"I'll take your word for that." Derek dabbed at the jagged split. Spencer waited quietly for him to finish, trying not to flinch and moving his head when instructed.

"Jesus, you bled everywhere. I think that's all of it." He stepped back and looked Spencer over. "How the fuck did you get it on your shirt?"

Spencer plucked at the shirt and pulled it over his head and off to get a better look, ruffling his hair further. "I'm sorry…It's not that much and it should come out if we treat it. But you can't really be surprised that the laceration bled a lot. It's similar to a head wound. The skin comprising our lips has only three to five layers of skin cells at any given time, making it much easier to break through than the rest of our skin, which has approximately sixteen layers. Also underneath this very thin layer is a particularly large branch of the facial artery, so one should really exp—Mmmm…" A hot tongue invaded Spencer's mouth, cutting his lecture short.

His lip throbbed painfully, but Spencer ignored it in favor of sucking hard on Derek's tongue. The answering moan spurred him on.

Tastes like pizza and Derek.

Spencer dropped the shirt and reached up to wrap his arms around Derek's neck, only to be pushed away by a gentle resistance. Derek held him at arm's length with a firm grip on his shoulders. His head was bowed and his muscles trembled with Spencer recognized as restraint.

"Do you have any idea how hard you're making this?"

Hard…Ye-No. No, stop twisting meanings. Hard like challenging? Hard like a problem? I'm a problem? What did I do? I did something wrong. What did I do? What could have changed? The kissing. Kissing is emotional. Now it's a problem. Why would it be a problem…Previous emotional commitment. I knew it. He has a girlfriend. There's someone else. No, no there's not. There's no 'someone else' because there's no 'us.' This is not exclusive. If you start crying right now, no chess until next Christmas. Besides, he always with you. When does he have time for anyone else?

Spencer bit his tongue and tried to get control of himself.

"It's impossible to hold back around you. How the hell am I supposed to wait when you keep pulling the innocent nerd shit?"

Wait? On what? So this isn't about a girlfriend? Or is he waiting on…something until he breaks up with his girlfriend? I can still play chess? When did he find time for a girlfriend?

Spencer tightened his muscles to keep from sagging in relief. The tears would have been inevitable.

"I mean, I'm a teenager. Hotch can only expect so much out of me, you know? At this rate, I'm gonna have to buy you one of those freaky metal diapers with the lock and give him the key!"

Hotch? What does he have to do with this? Is he with Derek? I can see where he'd have time for that relationship. Why does dating Aaron require me to wear a chastity belt? More importantly, why does Aaron get the KEY to my chastity? This is getting ridiculous.

Spencer opened his mouth to say so, but Derek just kept plowing forward. He'd released Spencer's shoulders and was rubbing his temple with one hand.

"No. I'm stronger than this. Right? I have discipline. I can do this. We can do this. I will wait until next January. You'll help me, right? No more subconscious teasing and taunting? I mean, the kissing makes it ten times harder. How am I supposed to settle with just your mouth? How can I not want to taste everything? And once that starts there's no fucking way I'll be able to stop. And then Hotch is gonna kill me! Or maybe he'll just skin me and leave me to suffer…

Why does tasting more of me result in death-by-Aaron? And tasting more of me how, exactly?

Derek had Spencer's full attention at that, but he'd ranted off the topic completely already. Spencer needed to get him back to that bit.

He can't keep going if he's otherwise occupied. If it worked on me, it'll work on him.

Spencer reached out, grabbed Derek's collar and hauled him forward, clumsily pushing their lips together. Derek's mouth was wide open, so Spencer took advantage and set about mimicking Derek's techniques from their first kiss.

Incredibly effective. Good for stopping conversation. And brain function…

True to the nature of their relationship, Spencer wasn't able to keep the stolen dominance for long. Derek surged forward, knocking him backward into the bathtub. He barely managed to catch Spencer's head before it could crack against the opposite side.

"I tell you that I need your help controlling myself and this is your solution," Derek growled, pulling Spencer upright, then off the edge and into his lap.

Spencer found himself straddling Derek's waist, crossed legs keeping his thighs spread wide. He shifted awkwardly, wrapping his legs around Derek's hips and interlocking his ankles.

Spencer bucked forward when teeth clamped down on the bare skin of his shoulder. His body was rapidly responding and he could feel Derek's cock hardening against him. Derek hadn't even bothered to zip his pants after that kiss.

How was that not uncomfortable?

Spencer needed to speak before he lost all his thoughts completely.

"D-Derek, hang on, wh-Ooooo," Spencer moaned, arching into the fingers twisting his nipple roughly.

"Hang on? Pretty Boy, you started this," Derek whispered harshly in his ear, pulling on the abused pebble of flesh. Spencer mentally cursed his moment of 'brilliance' for that one.

"Ah! I-I know I just-What are you supposed to be-mmm-waiting on?" Spencer practically purred as Derek's nails ran softly down his back until he was cupping Spencer's ass, lips trailing down his chest with gentle kisses.

Derek paused at his neglected nipple and blew across the dusky skin, smiling when Spencer shuddered. "Fucking you, Reid. Hotch wants me to wait to fuck you until you turn sixteen." He bit down on the flesh, simultaneously pressing two fingers up to rub small circles against Spencer's clenching entrance.

Spencer shouted in surprise, jerking upwards to flee the intrusive pressure. Or trying to anyway. Pain from the sudden movement brought his attention back to his captive nipples. Derek kept a firm hold with his fingers, releasing the one in his teeth.

He wants to have interco-sex with me. More research. This is beyond any parameters I've established.

The mocking smirk made him throb with want and a hint of shame. "Keep it down, baby boy, or you'll wake the neighborhood." The two fingers pressed harder, eliciting a pitiful mewl from Spencer.

Derek released his other nipple and dropped the free hand to Spencer's waist, forcing him down to grind their hips. He dug teeth into the juncture of Spencer's neck to hold him in place, increasing the speed of his taunting circles.

Spencer reached down to free his trapped arousal. He wanted to feel Derek's length against his own again. Wanted to feel the answering throb as they both came.

Derek had other plans. He released Spencer's waist to catch the slender wrist, rolling their bodies to pin Spencer beneath him on the cool tile floor. The new position forced their groins together.

"No, no, not this time. You're gonna cum in your pants, Reid. I want to see that adorable flush of humiliation again."

In contrast to the cruel words, Derek's tone was fairly gentle. It made Spencer's ears burn, because the thrusts of his hips were anything but. Derek freed the captured wrist to muffle Spencer's moans, leaving Spencer to claw at the floor with one hand and cling to Derek with the other.

Spencer gave a breathless cry as he came, barely audible past Derek's hand. As were the high-pitched gasps that followed as Derek chased his own completion against Spencer's tender body. The hot fluids of his orgasm mixed with Spencer's to spread through the thin fabric of the borrowed pants. He pulled his hand away to press a quick, bruising kiss to Spencer's parted lips.

As he struggled to return his heartbeat to a normal rate, Spencer uncrossed his ankles and let his feet fall to the floor. The soaked material rapidly chilled against his skin. Spencer felt the familiar rush of heat to his face. To use Derek's satisfied smirk as a judge, his face was clearly portraying the embarrassment Derek sought.

Derek's eyes flashed possessively. "The best part of all of this is that you have no clue how completely transparent you are, you know? It's written all over your face how much you love this."

Spencer had to look away in the end, turning his head. His neck ached faintly and he knew he'd have a few more hickies in the morning. He'd missed them. He'd missed this feeling of being owned more. It made his insides twist in a strange mix of under-fed need. Spencer still couldn't identify what he needed more of.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Spencer scrambled up as soon as Derek stood, still smirking. He slipped by and moved towards Derek's bedroom, intent on removing the stained pajamas before Derek could tease him further.

His momentum was halted by an arm around his middle.

"Where are you going?"

"To change," Spencer grumbled.

"Did I say you could?" Derek's fingers stroked Spencer's stomach lightly.

"No," Spencer's voice wavered, his eyes tightly shut.

"I want you to sleep in them. I want to be the last thought on your mind when you fall asleep and the first thought when you wake up." Derek turned Spencer bodily and kissed him once more. Chastely, almost. "Sweet dreams, Pretty Boy. I'll see you in the morning."

Spencer didn't have a voice to answer with. He stood silently in the hall for several minutes after Derek left. He couldn't sleep naked comfortably. And…he rather liked the idea of sleeping covered in Derek's seed. The heat tripled and he ran into the spare bedroom, nearly slamming the door behind him.

As he huddled under the covers trembling, half aroused at just the feel of the damp fabric on his groin, Spencer thought he'd never get to sleep at all.

Saturday

He must have fallen asleep eventually. The first thing he noticed was the faint light gleaming through the blinds. The second was his painfully hard erection, caused by those "sweet dreams". It took fifteen minutes of physics and the mental dissection of a frog to keep his thoughts from returning to the cause of the sticky material plastered to his skin.

As deliciously debasing as the feeling was, though, Spencer needed a shower. Badly.

Keeping his steps as light as possible, Spencer crept past Derek's open door and into the bathroom. He rushed his shower, skipping the hair ritual completely and dressing before he even left the bathroom. Thankfully, Derek's bite marks were low enough that a turtle neck wasn't necessary.

Spencer was already enjoying his second cup of coffee (blueberry, much to his delight) with Ms. Morgan when Derek finally made an appearance. Breakfast that morning turned out to be omelets and hashbrowns. Derek wisely kept his hands out of the vegetables Spencer was chopping.

The rest of the morning was spent getting Derek ready for the essay questions on his upcoming literature midterm.

When Spencer prepared to leave at noon, Ms. Morgan made a point of checking the laundry while Derek kissed Spencer goodbye. The kiss ended with a gasping Spencer backed into the door and whispered promise from Derek that next time he was going to make up for not joining Derek in his bed earlier that morning.

Spencer contemplated the dynamics of Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors and resolutely refused to consider his next evening at Derek's.

He spent the rest of his weekend helping his mother grade papers and playing "Go" with his father.

He wasn't prepared to deal with the research that would be necessary to initiate intercourse with Derek. Besides, thanks to Aaron, Spencer had plenty of time to prepare himself. If it was going to be a mutually pleasurable experience for both of them, he'd have to focus on himself as well now.

Monday

"Christmas break! Christmas break!" Adam was practically bouncing in his seat.

Rob chucked his empty milk carton at him. "Would you shut up already? We still have to finish tomorrow and like six more midterms."

I really don't understand what's so bad about midterms. They aren't that challenging.

Spencer knew better than to voice his thoughts, so he continued eating.

"I just hate the family hopping. I wanna stay home for once," Derek groaned.

Grumbles of assent around the table.

"What?" Spencer paused, his sandwich halfway to his mouth.

"My mom always drags me off to visit some obscure series of relatives on holidays. They all drive me nuts." He punctuated the comment with a stab at the rock hard brown rectangle, presumably a brownie before it was burned.

"So…you're going to be gone all month."

"Well, yea-Shit, I didn't tell you."

"No, you didn't."

This behavior isn't conducive with his reputation. He's acting like someone who's never been in a relationship before.

Lunch ended in an uncomfortable silence once again.

This time it carried over to the walk home. Spencer managed to set his annoyance aside for tutoring, but it clouded his expression as soon as the others left. Aaron had forbidden another pizza dinner until further notice, so the team was gone before dinner, leaving Derek and Spencer alone.

"I really am sorry."

Derek had apologized seventeen times now. Seventeen and a half if Spencer counted the one that he'd cut off by throwing a pillow at Derek to shut him up.

Spencer put away the last of the dinner dishes he'd dried and turned to face Derek.

"I know! I told you I accept your apology. All of them It's not like you stood me up or something. I'm just glad I found out you were leaving beforehand," Spencer said, grabbing his bag.

"But-"

"Derek, it's alright. I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, ok?

"Yeah…Ok."

Derek kissed him softly and Spencer headed home, just beginning to realize he'd probably overreacted.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Derek couldn't believe how well the week had gone.

Spencer came over every afternoon. The team had been awesome about letting him right in. Spencer had definitely sped the process along when he freaked on Adam.

Derek chuckled as walked into his first class of the day. He wished he could have been there to see that.

He got to the door of his Geometry class and sighed.

Really don't want to take this test.

There was a slip of paper on his desk already. Derek picked it up and turned it over.

"Good luck on your test—P.B."

Pretty Boy…

Derek's head felt light and numb, his stomach dropped like he was riding a roller coaster and his chest ached. But it all felt good. And out of control.

What the hell is wrong with me?

… … … End Flashback … … …


	15. Love Bites

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Derek sat down at the lunch table a few minutes late. He looked around. "Where's the kid?"

Adam shrugged. Mat shook his head.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Derek threw his fork on his tray and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Calm down, calm down. It's just lunch. This is not a big deal, control your temper, this is still new to him…But seriously, I don't get to see him all day, does he not want to come to lunch with me?

Derek saw the party in question slinking down the hall, almost like he expected a blow to the head.

"Pretty Boy!" Derek frowned when he flinched.

Chill out! Breathe. Explain the situation to him. Obviously, he's not very good at comprehending it.

"Ok, so here's the jist kid. I thought you'd catch on, being a genius and all, but clearly that doesn't apply to social cues for you."

Alright, that wasn't exactly calm. Too aggressive. Point out the indicators. Use short sentences, too many words gives you time to say something stupid.

Spencer perked up and Derek had to hide a smile at how transparent he was. He grabbed Spencer's arm and started pulling him back toward the cafeteria. No matter how calm or gentle he wanted to be, they still had a time limit and Derek was hungry.

"That note we gave you. Did it ever say to STOP coming to lunch?"

Silence, then:

"No."

"And was anyone an ass to you at lunch?"

More silence.

Come on, kid. It's not that hard.

"Has anyone been an ass to you AT ALL recently?"

Derek glanced back when the wrist in his hand started shaking.

"What did you do?" Derek blinked, confused, as Spencer struggled and tried to jerk his arm away. His voice was rising in volume and pitch. "What did you do?"

What the fuck?

Derek's eyes widened. Spencer's breathing sounded like he was having a panic attack.

Oh my God, he's gonna cry!

He pulled Spencer into the bathroom and prayed it would be empty. They'd barely made it through the mazed entrance when Spencer started trashing. Thankfully, they were alone.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is this?" He wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller boy, trying to protect both himself and the kid. "Pretty Boy, calm down! Please, kid, somebody's gonna hear you. Shhh, it's gonna be okay. Damn it, is someone still messin' with you, baby?" Spencer was sobbing into Derek's neck.

Derek pressed his lips to Spencer's ear, alternately kissing and shushing him. That seemed to have the calming effect he was hoping for.

I'm gonna kill 'em. I don't care who it is, I'm gonna skin the bastards alive.

When Spencer's body was still and his tears dried, Derek tilted his head up, looking him in the eye.

"Pretty Boy, who is it? I'll…talk to them."

I'll leave 'em trussed up on Hotch's doorstep like a present.

Spencer shook his head a bit. "No one," he whispered. He didn't sound sincere.

"Fuck that. You did not just spaz over nothing. Don't lie to me, Reid," Derek gritted his teeth.

This is NOT his fault, don't act like it is!

"Really, no one…That's why I-I thought you'd done-that you'd said…I thought they knew about…" Spencer averted his eyes and gnawed at his lip.

Excuse me…?

Derek released Spencer's chin and stepped back, trying to put some distance between them before he lost his temper.

"You thought I'd what? Told them? About this? All of it?" Derek had to keep his voice flat to hide his anger. "Do you really think I'm that much of an asshole? That I'd tell everyone and leave you without anyone to protect you?" Derek could hear his voice rising, his temper getting the better of him. "Do you have any idea what they'd do-Of course you do."

Breathe. He knows the consequences way better than you do. Just…Just get some space.

Spencer looked like he was about to speak.

"C'mon. We need to eat," Derek grabbed Spencer's shoulder, propelling him out the door and down to the cafeteria.

"But Derek…"

"We'll talk about it later."

Not now. Really shouldn't talk about it now.

The silence when the two of them walked into the cafeteria was deafening. Derek cursed under his breath, "Fuck. I should have at least let you clean up your face. Sorry, Pretty Boy."

Spencer kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing. Derek pushed him toward the table.

The silence continued.

Ugh. This is painfully awkward.

It was enough to distract Derek from being pissed at Spencer.

Hotch's tray dropped onto the table, but he didn't sit down. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Do we have a problem?" His question echoed over the room. And suddenly everyone had something of interest to say and no one was looking anymore.

He runs this school. No doubt about it.

That cured Derek's mood. But he kept his face blank. The kid needed to know he was in trouble.

Adam cleared his throat, "Well, Morgan, you definitely reinforced our story. There isn't a soul here who doesn't think Boy Genius is under your thumb now. And Hotch and the rest of us are clearly covering for you."

Derek shrugged.

"Reid, are you alright?" Hotch's gaze flicked from Spencer to Derek and back again.

Ugh. I'm gonna hear about this later.

"Yeah, I just um…What is the story exactly?" Spencer pulled out his sandwich and took a bite, resolutely not looking at Derek.

Crap.

Hotch looked back at Derek and sighed, "You forgot to tell him."

Now I'm really gonna get it.

Spencer glanced up when Derek didn't answer. He was hunched over his tray, picking at the food.

So…This is actually mostly my fault. But he's still gonna get an ear full later. Why did he think I would use this against him?

Hotch shook his head and opened his milk carton. "It's almost exactly the truth. You're basically Morgan's tutor. The student body has interpreted that to mean that you are cheating for him in return for protection. Teachers think it's an honest arrangement, because from what I've seen of your work for him, you're remarkably good at mimicking his thought process and interests. Basically, it makes it acceptable for you to be seen with any of us, and Morgan in particular."

Derek caught Spencer looking at him.

"Um…Derek…I uh…"

"I said we'll talk about it later."

"But…" Spencer trailed off at Derek's look.

He has absolutely no survival instincts.

Spencer looked like he was going to cry again. Derek gave in and let his thigh push up against Spencer's to reassure him. Spencer relaxed.

Derek went back to eating the grey "meat."

"How in the world do you all manage to eat that swill?" Spencer's lips curled back in almost comical disgust.

Derek's fork paused on the way to his mouth and he glared at Spencer. Despite being mid-chew, he managed to look righteously indignant.

"Oh!" Spencer clapped a hand over his mouth.

The team cracked up. Even Hotch's lips turned up a bit at the corners.

"Oh my god, kid, we have been missing out!" Mat clutched at his ribs and Adam attempted to wipe up the milk that had spewed from his nose.

"Fuck all of you," Derek grumbled and returned to his food.

He didn't speak for the rest of lunch (all six minutes), but the comforting pressure of his leg against Spencer's stayed put.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer stared at his white board, ignoring the ringing of the phone hanging on the wall outside his door. Derek's contradictory actions were almost making sense. He'd been reluctant to mar his Sexual Autopsy of Derek Morgan with the unpleasantness of this research, so he pulled out the large dry erase board his mother used to teach him derivatives in elementary school. But he needed more information, more time. This would have to be put on the back burner.

"Spencer, telephone! It's Ethan," his mother's voice drifted down the hallway.

"Ethan…Ethan who? Got it!" Spencer reached out and grabbed the phone off the wall. "Hello?"

"Hey, Spence. Been a while, huh?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't seem to place a face with the name…" Spencer rubbed the back of his neck.

"Haha, no problem. Like I said, it's been a while. Ethan, from elementary school? I moved in two houses down from you not long before you jumped grades."

"Oh my gosh! That Ethan! No way, you're voice changed so much." Enough so to send a small thrill through Spencer's body.

It's even deeper than Derek's… And gruffer too. More calloused, where Derek's tone is smooth.

"Swear to God. Puberty's hell, so I'm glad I got something good out of it," Ethan laughed. The sound brought a smile to Spencer's face.

He has a nice laugh. I'm glad, he was always good to me. Hm. Not sure how those two things are connected in my mind.

Spencer recalled a very tall 10 year-old lifting him up to dunk the basket ball whenever he tried to play with the neighborhood boys. He'd competed with Spencer in school, but never held any of that over his head once the day was over.

"Not that I don't appreciate the call, but…Did my mother leave our number with you?" Spencer knew he hadn't learned it until they'd moved in and he never called anyone back in Vegas.

"No, kid, I used the phone book. My grandmother collects every zone they print. Not too many Reid couples with both your parents' names in Quantico. But look, I'm callin' because I'm gonna be out your way real soon. For most of the break apparently. Turns out some lady I'm distantly related died yesterday and she lived in Quantico. So we're headed over for her funeral."

"Wow… I'd give my condolences, but you don't sound to broken up about it."

"My mom swears she was really close to…what-ever-her-name-was, but I've never heard of her or even seen a picture. And, I don't know if you remember this, but my mother has documented her life in picture format since the day she could lift a camera. I think she's more interested in getting away from Grandma. The old bat's gone off the deep end."

Spencer could vaguely picture an old woman in a nightgown burying crows' feet at the corners of Ethan's house.

I'm not sure that plunge was a recent occurrence.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out while I'm in town?"

"Absolutely! In fact, I was starting to worry that my holidays were going to look incredibly boring," Spencer felt relieved to find his laugh genuine. He'd already gotten over his anger at Derek.

"Excellent. I'll give you a call when we're in town. I gotta let you go though, I'm killing the phone bill. I'll see you soon!"

"I'm looking forward to it. Bye!" Spencer waited for the dial tone to indicate Ethan had hung up.

This break may not be so bad after all.

Tuesday—Christmas Break Week 1

When he approached the lunch table, Spencer noted the silence. The team was waiting to see if he'd actually forgiven Derek.

Spencer sat down at the table beside Derek, the guys made a point of keeping it open this time. He sighed at the weight of the silence and let his thigh lean against Derek's.

"I told you already, it's fine," Spencer smiled a little.

That was enough to break the tension and Adam started cutting up immediately. Travis finally smacked him sharply over the head when he made a lewd comment about a girl Travis had been seeing from another school. It reminded Spencer of a question he'd been meaning to ask.

"Why don't any of you have girlfriends? I would think you'd sit with them at lunch, at least."

"Rob's the only one with a girl here, but she's got the first lunch period. The rest of us know better than to get with the crazy bitches at this school. 'Cept Morgan," Mat teased, ducking the carton Derek chucked at him.

"Remember, that one girl you almost hooked up with freshman year?" Adam laughed.

"Yeah, aren't you gonna see her over the break? She moved out by your aunt finally, right?" Anderson stole the cookie off of Jones' tray.

What?

Spencer's stomach clenched.

"Oh-ho, chasing that tail again? You are one twisted dude, Derek Morgan!" Cooper dodged Jones' arm as he took a swipe at Anderson.

"Hey, you can't deny she's hot, man," Jones mumbled around a mouth full of retrieved chocolate chip cookie.

"Yes, gentlemen, that's exactly what I'll be doing," Derek laughed good naturedly.

Not exclusive. We are not exclusive.

Spencer put away his sandwich. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"You ok, Pretty Boy?"Derek frowned.

Spencer nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yes, I'm just not hungry today."

"Don't get sick right before break, kid… Hey, we're leaving right after school, so I'll walk with you to the corner today."

"Alright, that's fine," Spencer's voice trembled a bit.

Aaron was looking at him oddly, so Spencer made a point of forcing his normal behavior. He managed to make it to the bathroom after lunch before throwing up.

Spencer didn't go to the library during homeroom. He laid his head on his desk and stared listlessly at the wall for half an hour, ignoring the ruckus of his classmates as they discussed holiday plans. He waited at the main door for Derek when the bell rang and fell in step with him as he passed by. A flood of bodies poured by them, no one wanting to stay in the school a moment longer than necessary. Not even one questioning glance was cast their way.

Rumors are written in stone at this age, I suppose. At least it's one we have control of.

When they reached the stop sign, Derek stopped.

"I'd take you home for a proper goodbye, but…" Derek scuffed the ground with his shoe.

"It's ok. I'm not sure I could let you leave if you did that," Spencer whispered. He turned to Derek, careful to keep his hands loose by his sides. "Think of me, ok?" He could hear the desperation in his voice.

Think of me when you see her. Think of me first.

"Of course I'm gonna think of you!" Derek looked confused. "Kid, are you sure you're alright?"

No.

"Yeah, I just-I'm going to miss you a lot."

"Me too…Crap, I gotta go but…Look at me. You're really good with this? Promise?" Derek waited for Spencer to face him completely.

NO!

"I promise." It took all of Spencer's self-control to hold his voice steady.

"Alright. Have a Merry Christmas, Pretty Boy." Derek nudged his shoulder playfully, discretely brushing a kiss across Spencer's cheek, then headed down his street.

Spencer unlocked his door and stumbled blindly down the hallway into his bedroom. He dropped his bag on the floor and crawled into bed, not bothering to change. His chest ached and he knew if he ate anything, he'd puke again.

Ethan couldn't have any better timing. I need a distraction. Badly.

Spencer didn't eat that night. He stayed in his room and slept until nine o'clock the next morning. If possible, he felt even worse. He stayed in bed the rest of the day. When his mother called him for dinner, he said he didn't feel well. And he didn't. His body was shivering, but he wasn't cold. His chest and stomach hurt worse than they had with the flu. When he tried to choke down anti-nausea medicine with a bit of juice, he puked until he dry heaved. His mother took his temperature later that night, but it was normal. The source wasn't physical, but Spencer already knew that. He slept fitfully and gave up at six o'clock the next morning. He needed a shower desperately. And coffee.

There has got to be a reasonable limit to this. I knew what our understanding was when we started. Derek can be with anyone he wants.

A hot shower and two cups of Columbia blend later, he felt more human. But he'd seen himself in the mirror and he certainly didn't look all that human.

Spencer sighed and jabbed at the eggs his father made them for breakfast with a fork. His mother had already left for school. As a professor, she still had another week and a half before her break began.

"Spencer…" Spencer glanced up. His dad was pushing his own eggs around his plate.

"Yes?" Spencer ran a hand over his face.

"…It's…hard, parting from a good friend for a while…"

"Y-yeah, it is…" Spencer couldn't bring himself to look up.

"Son…"

There is no feasible way we're doing this. This is not a conversation for a son to have with his father. Mothers are supposed to cover this kind of topic…

"…Is it ok if you finish this talk with your mother?"

Spencer's lips turned up in a slight smile. "Yeah, I think that'd be best."

"Oh, thank God!" Mr. Reid's head hit the table. "That was as far as I got in my head. Ugh. I'm so glad mothers are better at this."

The relief in his father's voice pulled a chuckle from Spencer. It made his chest hurt.

His father left for work with instructions for Spencer to stay out of bed and get some fresh air.

So Spencer grabbed his coat, gloves, and favorite purple scarf. He wandered, aimlessly, trying to keep his thoughts off of Derek. It didn't seem to be working.

I was wrong. I can't do non-exclusive. I thought I would be able to share him, but he's made it too personal. I really-the way he's been acting…I fooled myself into thinking it was more to him.

Spencer sighed. This wasn't doing him any good. They were thoughts that needed to be put aside until he could speak with Derek. He looked around to see where his steps had taken him.

It was supposed to be aimless. Although, aimlessness is nearly impossible for the human mind to comprehend. Just like true randomness. Our thoughts influence our every move, intentional or not. If one attempts to plant seeds in small bed randomly, it is highly unlikely that, short of throwing them, this will be achieved. Humans have a strange urge to fill empty space. Draw a random unbroken line on a page, and one will find the hand traveling to cover the spaces left blank. Not random at all. Not aimless at all.

He was standing in front of the football field. Oddly enough, he wasn't alone. The team was there. Apparently, only Derek had holiday plans this early.

Chandler scored a touchdown and did a rather interesting dance that prompted Mat to kick him in the knee. Aaron appeared to be the referee, but he didn't call Mat out.

He spotted Spencer and, ignoring the scuffle, waved him over.

Spencer followed the outline of the field, not wanting to risk getting too close to the flailing limbs.

They're like small children.

"I didn't expect to see you until the end of our break, Reid. Certainly not here at school."

Spencer shrugged. He wasn't sure how to admit that he'd wound up here by some subconscious intent. So he changed the topic.

"Is this a serious practice or were you all just bored?"

"Mostly boredom. But there was a bit of separation anxiety thrown in. Particularly with Adam, Mat, and Travis. They're inseparable at any time, but they can only manage so much without a responsive audience. So we spend most of our breaks out here."

Aaron and Spencer watched the group of boys chase each other down the field, their breath drifting up in puffs of white.

I wonder where Derek would fit in this situation…

"Isn't that a little too much together time? I'd think there would be a lot of tension."

The football was lying over by the goal post, so Spencer wasn't sure why the pile of struggling bodies was in the middle of the field.

"Is that mess there some kind of tactic?"

"No, it's not. I suspect they release the majority of their frustrations by beating the ever-loving shit out of one another in the guise of football."

Derek's never joined in the fray when I'm with them. He stays back with Aaron. Does he normally join them? Does he want to? Does my presence change his behavior?

The "three stooges" must have done something Spencer couldn't see, because suddenly the pile was up and moving after them. They ran the perimeter of the field several times, shouting obscenities. The football lay untouched.

"Do they know how often they end up running laps without you even having to tell them?"

"No, and if you say anything about it, I may have to kill you."

"Ah."

Eventually, Aaron called a halt to the chaos and a semblance of a game resumed. Spencer sat on the bench, absorbing the realization that he in fact knew very little of Derek's life outside of school and sex. His chest was hurting again.

It was past two when Jones dropped out of the game, announcing his imminent starvation. Chandler and Rob left not long after. By three o'clock the group disbanded, parting in the parking lot.

"At least half of us are going to be out here every day for a while, feel free to drop by. You don't have to be with Morgan to be welcome."

Spencer dredged up a smile and pretended that didn't drive the knife deeper. His insides were cold and his body was shaking.

The small lunch he attempted when he got home came right back up. He spent the rest of the day staring at a single page in a well-worn volume of Chaucer's works. Everything hurt. He fell into a restless sleep on his window seat.

His eyes didn't open until noon the next day, and only then because his body was loudly announcing its hunger and thirst. There was a plate in the refrigerator wrapped in saran wrap with instructions for Spencer to eat. Spencer carefully kept his thoughts on the chess game he'd started against himself. He managed to keep the meal down.

He finished the game and grabbed his coat. When he arrived at the field this time, it was intentional. Aaron nodded a greeting when he sat down, but for the most part kept his attention on the field. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like the players were running serious plays. After a few instructions, Aaron joined them on the field to practice them.

Spencer tried to follow the movements and calls. He was surprised to find it was an excellent distraction from Derek.

Unfortunately the realization was all it took to bring the boy front and center in his thoughts. His feet were dragging when the boys went home. He wandered the neighborhood, taking streets he'd never been down. One looped back to Derek's street. Spencer ran the rest of the way home and collapsed on his bed gasping for air, doing his best not to cry.

I don't understand… How can something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things hurt so much? No amount of harassment from other students has ever affected me like this.

He fell asleep in his coat and didn't wake up until well past two the next afternoon. There was a vague memory of his mother coming in and taking off his jacket and shoes to pull the covers over him, then whispering that she was going to have a long talk with him later.

His skin hot and dry, his throat hurt and his head ached. The shivering was from a real fever this time. Spencer closed his eyes and slid back into sleep.

When he woke the next morning, there was snow on the ground. His fever had gone down, and he felt hungry without the nausea for the first time all week.

His mother poured him a cup of coffee when he sat down at the table. She waited until he'd finished his toast to speak.

"Honey."

Spencer looked up.

"Your father told me he started to talk with you about this already…"

He flinched a little and nodded.

"It does hurt when someone you're close to leaves for the first time. But," she stood up and came around the table to hold his hand, "it hurts a lot more when that person is more than a friend."

Spencer swallowed shakily and nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. He blinked back tears. He was not going to cry over this.

She gave him a few moments to pull himself together.

"Mom…Do you know why it hurts so much? I just-I know he's important to me, but I'm experiencing several of the textbook signs of depression and I don't understand why. I've only known him as a…friend for less than a month. That's not enough time to form such a strong attachment."

"Oh, sweetheart, it doesn't take long to fall in love when you're young." Spencer noticed a disturbingly dreamy quality to his mother's smile when she said that. He stared at her and let his horror show on his face.

Love? She's joking right?

"Ah, I forget that boys your age are so reluctant to use the 'l-word'," Mrs. Reid laughed to herself for a moment. "But Spencer, why didn't you tell us?"

"About Derek?" Spencer tilted his head. "You obviously already knew…"

"No, no…That you're gay," his mother said, looking genuinely concerned. "Why didn't you tell us when you realized it? Did you think we wouldn't accept it?"

Spencer blinked. "I guess…Well for one thing, it wasn't a realization. It just was. I've never considered females at all, so I never had an emotional break through to deal with. But as for why I didn't tell you, I thought it didn't matter-"

"It doesn't!" Mrs. Reid was quick to reassure him.

"Clearly," Spencer said with a small smile. "But what I meant was, I thought my preference would be so inconsequential to both you and Dad, that it didn't occur to me that I would need to announce it. I rather expected that you would accept anyone I brought home."

"Oh. Well. I suppose we've done our jobs decently enough, then."

Spencer allowed a soft laugh at that. "As far as I can tell, you've done just fine."

"How are the other students handling this? And the teachers?" The question was tentative.

"Don't worry, Mom, we've got that covered. For everyone else, I'm just Derek's tutor. No one knows."

… … … Flashback: Prentiss' POV … … …

Prentiss stood back in the hallway of the second floor boys' bathroom, shell-shocked. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She'd just finished a discussion with the JJ and was exiting the library when she'd heard raised voices and spotted Spencer and Derek Morgan in the hall. Convinced she'd finally caught one of the boy's tormentors in the act, she waited for definitive proof. But the conversation only got stranger as she listened.

Why is Derek Morgan keeping track of who harasses Spencer?

She'd noticed that confrontations involving Spencer had taken an abrupt nose-dive, but hadn't been able to figure out why.

Suddenly, Spencer started struggling. Prentiss moved forward, but she was in heels and Derek had dragged the boy into the bathroom before she could catch them.

She'd kicked the heels off to move faster, worried the damage would be done before she could get there. Her stocking feet were silent on the tile of the bathroom entrance. Derek clearly didn't hear her coming or Prentiss probably never would have heard his hushed tones, "Pretty Boy, calm down! Please, kid, somebody's gonna hear you. Shhh, it's gonna be okay. Damn it, is someone still messin' with you, baby?"

Pretty Boy? Baby? Oh dear…this is an entirely different situation.

Prentiss stayed until Derek ended the conversation. She slipped away quickly and hurried to the main office. She'd get her shoes later.

"Gideon, I don't think we need to worry about the Reid boy's safety anymore."

Gideon's head snapped up. "And why do you say that?"

"Well, we apparently missed a very large turning point on the issue…"

… … … End Flashback … … …


	16. What's Your Name Again?

… … … Flashback: Aaron's POV … … …

"So he's actually tutoring you?" Aaron was still having a hard time processing the information.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Morgan asked, drumming his fingertips on the desk and watching the clock.

You'd think he'd be more offended that I have so little faith in his motivation.

"Because you've never cared about any of this before. And your junior year is a little late to start."

Morgan glanced his way. "Well, maybe I've had a change of heart."

No, your heart's been pretty focused for a while now.

"You're honestly going to take this seriously. Even though you've put it in such a terrible framework." Aaron shook his head in disbelief.

"I just told you I'm taking it seriously. Hotch, I really don't want to disappoint him," Derek mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Just how do you plan to explain this to him? You'll have to eventually." Aaron could feel his customary frown forming.

"Well, what if I don't have to? What if he thinks that it was just kind of inevitable? The guys had a point, the kid was never going to trust me if I just came out and said something. Calling it a mutually beneficial arrangement was the only way to get him to consider it."

He didn't consider it, you forced him into this.

"Do you think he's stupid?" Aaron asked, raising an eye brow.

"No, I-"

"There are things people notice, Morgan. Reid can read you like one of his precious books and even if he can't always understand the words, he's smart enough to figure out the context. At some point, you're going to have to tell him this was a sham."

"It's not going to come to that," Derek grumbled, sounding like a sullen child.

Somehow, I highly doubt that.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He'd put on a brave face for his mother that morning, but his insides were still twisting. He picked at the scab on his lip. It was almost healed. Spencer wasn't sure he wanted that.

In love. The phrase sounded more like a diagnosis than anything else. Was that supposed to make it better? Originally, Spencer thought any explanation at all for the pain he was in right now would help. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Spencer had never been a very emotionally-minded individual, never been in love before that he could remember. He would have remembered. Hard to forget. It felt like a slow death.

Why would anyone do this again?

Once he'd received his "diagnosis," Spencer had looked up as much information as he could about the psychological manifestations of it in a teenage relationship. He'd known since freshman year that he was strongly attracted to Derek and had a bit of a star-struck obsession with him, but it wasn't something he confused with love. At best, it was a childish infatuation. But it had never felt like this. His jealousy over Trish had never pulled his intestines up his esophagus in a knot. And he'd witnessed actual evidence of that relationship. For all that he found, none of it made Spencer feel any better.

"Egocentric" seemed to be the consensus for all the research he'd found on adolescent relationships. And from what he could tell, the relationship he had with Derek fit the bill perfectly. It had begun on Derek's terms for his own convenience. It continued because both he and Derek got something out of it, and because Spencer had immediately set about trying to lure Derek in further. Even now, he couldn't help but think along those lines.

Maybe…If I'd slept with him? But Aaron told him not to and for whatever reason, Derek is listening. There has to be a reason for that.

Spencer had been trying to view their relationship from an emotionally mature perspective, difficult since he couldn't claim to have that kind of development. Keeping that in mind, what little progress he'd made was still disturbing.

First: They spent too much time together. The presence of the team in the afternoons helped dilute that aspect somewhat, so it wasn't the most pressing concern.

Second: They were too young. But there were several other relationships at Stewart with the same age difference. Spencer was more worried about them, because 'sick obsession' practically oozed off the younger partners (usually female). Again, the time spent with the other members of the team did wonders for tempering Spencer's own infatuation. As did tutoring him. That's what he'd thought anyway, until he dissolved into this emotional mess. So it obviously needed work.

Third: His notebook. Fixing that might actually address part of the attachment issue. Part of the twisted aspect of relationships, even those entered later in life according to Spencer's research, turned out to be the "tricks" partners used to keep the other interested. Dress promiscuously if that's what he likes (or cover up), push boundaries and comfort zones in bed (or hold back and go without personal needs being met), start developing an interest in things one might honestly hate. To a point, all of these could be done with the honest intent of meeting the other partner halfway, but the propaganda Spencer read took it to extremes in the eyes of relationship counselors and psychologists. And too often, it was the feminine partner changing to fit the needs of the male counterpart. Even in same-sex partnerships. Derek's Sexual Autopsy was the strongest example of that behavior that Spencer could find in their relationship. He knew what Derek liked now, and he certainly wasn't going to forget it. A notebook dedicated to ways to please really pushed things a little too far. It needed to go.

Fourth: If this was an open relationship, it needed to be open on both sides. Spencer wasn't sure he could do that. Wasn't even sure he wanted to try.

Fifth: His relationship with Derek was too sexually-centered. That…that one was difficult.

It feels so good. Not just for the physical release, but to be close to him like that. And lately…I've felt less and less like an outlet.

Sixth: All of these conclusions were based on the concept that what he had with Derek was an honest-to-goodness relationship, not an arrangement that was meant to be sexually-centered. In fact, if Spencer was going to focus on the original agreement…Derek should be the one with a notebook. It was Spencer's payment, not Derek's.

But he didn't need to make all of these changes tonight. One step at a time. The first problem was taken care of. Spencer wasn't going to see Derek for two more weeks. A continued distance would be dealt with when he returned from break. The second couldn't be changed, but his level of infatuation could be. So could his desire to change himself to fit Derek's wants perfectly. Spencer couldn't deny that what he'd found so far, he'd enjoyed. In those areas, he wanted to continue experimenting and learning, but there would be a line. He had yet to find it, he just knew it would be there. He'd have to figure out where it was on his own. Changes were possible and acceptable, provided at the end of it Spencer could still claim to be himself. And he could. He just needed to keep it that way.

A decision then. No matter what Derek's thoughts are on the matter, I will approach our interactions with the goal to grow emotionally and sexually in a fashion. When I can no longer find that with Derek, our arrangement will have to end.

Spencer felt tears rise and spill. It hurt to think like that, it hurt a lot. His chest burned. Thinking he might as well accept the inevitable, Spencer went to the bathroom and sat on the floor in front of the toilet, waiting to empty the contents of his stomach again. He waited. And waited. And cried. And waited. But his body didn't seem interested. Spencer felt a smile stretch his lip. He wiped his tears with the heel of his palm.

This…this is a good thing, despite how much it may hurt. I think, maybe, I should look at it as a growing pain. I'm not sure that I can do this alone, though. I guess…I could use the counselor for what she's actually there for.

He'd been skipping his counseling appointments lately, in favor of running to the library during homeroom to work on his notebook. They were supposed to be mandatory, but the counselor apparently hadn't shared his lack of attendance with anyone. Spencer sighed and said goodbye to a Tuesday's homeroom. Hopefully, it would be worth it. He hated his counselor. Probably because she was good at her job. Spencer always ended up saying things he meant to keep in his head.

The pain in his chest was fading and Spencer felt relatively confident he could hold his dinner down. He returned to his room and pulled the Sexual Autopsy of Derek Morgan from the row of books on his desk. Spencer opened it up to a random page and gripped the paper between his thumb and forefinger, intent on ripping every sheet from the binding. His hands were shaking and he could seem to force the motion that would start the tear.

This notebook represents everything I don't want in a lasting relationship. I'm manipulating him. It's one thing to learn your partner's mind and body. It's something else entirely to document it and hold him captive physically when he might be looking elsewhere emotionally.

All the same, Spencer couldn't bring himself to destroy it. With a quiet snarl of frustration he threw the book back on the desk and tugged at his hair. He turned in a full circle looking for something to do. Anything.

There was…That guy. He seemed interesting. Maybe he's on now.

Spencer sat down at his desk and, carefully tucking his notebook back in its spot, he pulled up the chess site he'd found. So far, he'd beaten his other opponents easily enough. But the game with his most recent opponent ended prematurely when the player was called away. His screen name was the "thehero_70". He'd apologized for the interruption and expressed a desire to pick up where they'd left off later. Spencer was confident he was winning, but his opponent was very good.

And he was on!

star_trek_lover19: Are you still interested in that game?

the_hero70: Absolutely.

"I give up!" Spencer groaned after hours at the computer.

star_trek_lover19: You win. Consider this my white flag. Three checkmates in one night is my personal worst and I don't think my self-esteem can handle another blow.

the_hero70: Don't give up so easily. You did a lot better in this last round. How are you supposed to improve if you never encounter anyone good enough to teach you something?

star_trek_lover19: …I can't fault your logic. All the same, I've taken all the licks I can for tonight. I look forward to our next match.

Spencer signed off and ran his fingers through his hair. His brain ached, but it a well-stretched way. It had been a while since he'd gotten to exercise his intellect like that.

He slept well for the first time that week.

Week Two

He kept breakfast and lunch down, his temperature stayed normal. Spencer considered going to the school, but it was Sunday and most of the boys were churchgoers. So he spent the day playing and replaying the moves of those lost chess games. When that became too frustrating he completed one of the assignments he'd been given for the break. He helped his mother string lights down the length of their fence. In general, he kept himself busy. Tried not to think of Derek every other minute. For the most part, he failed and his chest hurt and he wanted to cry, but he didn't throw up. A serious improvement. He wanted to be able to read Tolstoy's War and Peace in its un-translated version, so Spencer spent the rest of the night working on his Russian.

Before getting into bed, Spencer picked up Derek's Sexual Autopsy. He opened to a random page, took a deep breath, and tried once more to tear it out. Failure. He threw the notebook on the floor and crawled under his covers for a pity session. It lasted about fifteen minutes and ended with Spencer getting up and sliding the notebook back into its place on his desk. Frustration made sleep difficult.

Spencer was groggy and grouchy the next morning. It took a hot shower and several cups of syrupy Christmas Blend to improve his outlook. After a quick health check, his parents ordered him to get out of the house. He wouldn't be allowed back in for more than twenty minutes at a time.

He gave up any pretense of wandering and headed straight to the school. It looked like today was going to be another failed attempt at a practice. Mat was running down the field with Travis on his back. Travis was holding the football high up over his head. Rob barreled after them, carrying Adam while he reached for the ball. Aaron looked liked he'd aged ten years. The rest of the boys were on the sidelines, cheering them on.

"If any of you morons breaks a bone, I'm making you walk to the hospital on it!" Aaron's lips were compressed into a tight line and his eyebrows scrunched together.

Spencer sat down on the bleachers to watch.

"Hey, kid! We thought we'd scared you off," Jones teased, scooting over to make room for him.

"No, I got sick. Just a cold or something." Spencer was not going to share the actual cause with the team.

They'll probably just laugh at me. I should be able to handle this.

Eventually, Rob and Adam won their strange adaptation of chicken. Jones had been kind enough to explain exactly what that was to Spencer. It sounded ridiculous and dangerous, even in the water.

When the boys gathered in their lines for an actual attempt at a practice, Spencer moved down beside Aaron.

"Just don't do anything stupid," Aaron ordered. After that, they were left to their own devices and the game began.

As the players ran the length of the field and back, Aaron patiently answered all of Spencer's questions about their positions and plays. And a few interesting scrambles that weren't plays at all. Several of those in a row and the little scrimmage rapidly dissolved into a group game of Monkey in the Middle.

Overgrown children. I can see why they're so close.

Aaron just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Have you ever noticed just how much you have to parent them?" Spencer asked.

"My mother told me I was born a forty year-old father of three."

Mat and Adam lifted a struggling Chandler up over their heads. He was a beanpole, a year younger, and six inches shorter than both of them. Spencer calculated his odds and mentally advised the poor boy to give up.

"Mat! Adam! Put Chandler down!" Aaron shouted.

I wonder if his eyelid had that muscle tick before he joined the football team.

"Hotch, I'm hungry!" Travis whined, clutching his stomach.

"Why is that my problem? Go home and eat."

"But we're having that meat loaf shit again…" Travis wrinkled his nose.

"Pizza! Let's get pizza!" Mat dropped Chandler's legs abruptly to do a quick fist-pump, leaving him dangly by his wrists in Adam's hands.

"I want pizza, too, Hotch!"

After a few more minutes of high-pitched whines, Aaron gave in. "Fine! But you're giving me your money before we get there this time." The group cheered and tripped over one another as they ran for their jackets to pull out wallets and loose change.

He turned to Spencer with a long-suffering look. "These days, I tell her I adopted nineteen more."

Spencer swallowed his chuckles. He walked with them to the gate and turned the corner to head back to his house.

"Reid, where the fuck are you going? Pizza's this way."

Spencer yelped as a pair of arms looped around his waist and lifted him easily from the ground. Adam turned and carried him back to the team.

"I'm going home! I didn't bring any money to contribute." Despite his verbal protests, Spencer didn't struggle. He was too busy trying to process the situation.

I'm not scared. He grabbed me from behind and I shouted because he picked me up so fast. Not because I thought he was going to hurt me.

"Don't worry about it. We've got you covered," Rob replied, pulling out a couple extra dollars and passing them to Aaron. Jones and Travis contributed a few between them, as well.

…I-I'm…Uh…

Adam set Spencer down and draped an arm over his shoulders. The height difference made it a little awkward, but Spencer was too stunned to really register that.

"Close your mouth and stop dragging your feet, kid."

It was dark when Spencer finally got home. His face hurt from smiling all day and his feet throbbed from all the walking. Or maybe it was the dancing. He sat down at the kitchen table and frowned at the wood. His nose and fingers were cold.

"Welcome home, honey. Your father and I were starting to worry. Where were you all day?" His mother was pulling leftovers out of the refrigerator.

"I went to the school to watch the football team practice for a while. And then they went out to lunch. And Rob, Travis, and Jones paid for me to go out with them. Some of the boys wanted to go to the arcade. So we went. And Chandler and Adam paid for me to play games with them. They made me stand on this machine that had so many flashing lights I thought I was going to spontaneously develop epilepsy and die. But I didn't. It told me to step on arrows and made me dance like a poorly trained monkey. There was some new action movie out, so we watched it. I don't remember who paid for that. The movie was awful, the actors were stiff and the story had no plot. Johnson and Taylor threw popcorn at the people making out in front of us. Aaron and Thomas went fifteen minutes out of their way in the cold so I wouldn't have to walk home alone." Spencer's frown stayed fixed in place.

"Well…It sounds like you've found some decent friends, Spencer."

Spencer jumped in his chair. He hadn't heard his father walk in behind him. His frown intensified, but he nodded. "It was enjoyable, though not even remotely educational."

"So why do you look like you failed a physics test?"

I've never failed an academic test in my life. How does he know what my expression would be for that?

But Spencer pushed the thought aside and voiced the concern that had been niggling in his brain all day.

"I don't even know if I'm calling them by their first names or last!"

His confusion doubled when his mother laughed so hard she spilled stroganoff all over the floor.

The next day he left the field early to help his mother pick out a Christmas tree, very pleased that he'd been able to identify six of the actual plays the team made. Football wasn't quite as confusing when the team didn't forget to carry the ball while they chased each other. Aaron warned him before he left that if it snowed like it was supposed to that night, they wouldn't come out on Tuesday.

They were in the middle of decorating the tree when the phone rang. His mother was holding a precariously piled armful of lights and his father was behind the tree trying to figure out why the string had turned off for the fifth time.

"I'll get it," Spencer volunteered. He grabbed the receiver in the entry way. "Reid residence."

"Hey, kid. Guess who?"

"Ethan! Hi, I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon."

"I told you, Mom's desperate." Ethan's laugh ran down Spencer's spine. "Anyway, you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I hang out with some friends before lunch, but after that I'm free. And if it snows, I'm free all day."

"Excellent. If you can give me directions, I'll swing by tomorrow and we can hang out."

Ethan gave Spencer the name of the road his hotel was on and described the surrounding area. It was about a thirty-five minute drive from Spencer's house.

Between the good news and nearly beating the_hero70 (after four crushing failures) at chess, Spencer was almost too excited to sleep that night.

Spencer woke up to a blindingly white light. It had snowed.

He'd just poured himself a second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Carefully setting the steaming liquid down, Spencer yelled, "I'll get it," and ran to the door.

Before he threw it open, he peered through the peephole. His eyes widened. The boy on the other side was barely recognizable as his childhood friend. He was nearly six feet tall now, for one thing. His hair had gotten darker and fell almost to his shoulders. There was a light dusting of facial hair across his chin and jaw line. His glasses were gone. His shoulders were as wide as Aaron's. Spencer felt the telltale beginnings of warmth in his stomach.

Derek. Derek. Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

Spencer opened the door with a bright smile. "Ethan!"

Ethan's lips stretched in a relaxed grin. "Hey, Spencer." He held out his arms, clearly expecting the greeting a much younger Spencer used to give him.

Spencer leaped forward and through his arms around Ethan's neck. Long arms wrapped around him, shielding him from the cold air.

"Come in, come in. We have coffee and hot chocolate and food and…basically anything." Spencer let go of his neck and laughed when Ethan continued to hold him, carrying him through the door.

Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

Spencer peeked over Ethan's shoulder as the storm door swung shut behind them. There was a shiny red car in the driveway by his parents' cars.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, that's your early Christmas present." Ethan rolled his eyes and set Spencer down, ruffling his hair. His hand was so large it covered the majority of Spencer's head—Derek Derek Derek. "Yes, I drove here. I got my license last month and my Mom decided she trusted me enough to drive over from the hotel on my own. And coffee sounds great."

Spencer shook his hair back into place and headed to the kitchen. "Mom, Dad, Ethan's here."

"We gathered," his father laughed.

Ethan shook their hands and sat down while Spencer retrieved his own cup and a second for his friend.

They spent the day catching up and playing chess. Ethan wasn't as good as Spencer's online opponent, but he was better than most and Spencer enjoyed the matches.

Dinner was finished and Spencer was washing the dishes while Ethan dried. He couldn't help but glance over from time to time as they worked. He didn't quite reach Ethan's shoulder. Ethan's very nice shoulder. The boy from Spencer's childhood was lanky. This one had filled out very nicely.

Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

Spencer kept the mantra going in his head until Ethan left. For the first time since he'd learned about this other girl, Spencer was able to think about Derek without thinking about her.

He fell asleep that night thinking about Derek.

~Dream

Spencer opened his eyes to find himself encased in Derek's arms, with Derek's body pressed against him. He was experiencing SEVERE discomfort.

He tried to slip out of bed without waking the older boy, but the arms holding him tightened around him.

"Go back to sleep, Reid," Derek mumbled, shifting his grasp.

"I'll come right back. Really. Just…I um…I have to go to the bathroom," Spencer had to wriggle downward when Derek's arm fell a little too close to his groin.

"Pretty Boy, if you don't stop squirming right now you won't be leaving this bed at all today," all traces of sleep were gone. He stilled Spencer's movements with a firm hold on his hip. His already painful problem throbbed at the pressure

Spencer managed to swallow his whimper, but he couldn't fight the tremble that traveled through him. Or the blush that spread down from his cheeks.

There's no way he didn't feel that and this blushing isn't helping.

Derek sat up slowly and used his hold to roll Spencer onto his back.

Spencer was grateful for the sheets disguising his arousal. He looked away, too embarrassed to hold Derek's gaze for any amount of time. His blush brightened when Derek chuckled.

Disguised or not, Derek knew exactly what Spencer was dealing with.

"Look at me." Derek waited until Spencer's eyes held his. "You didn't actually think I'd let you run off and take care of this yourself did you?"

Spencer had to clear his throat several times before he could answer. "N-no, I didn't," he mumbled.

Derek's stare turned incredulous, so Spencer attempted to explain.

"I don't do…t-that." Spencer made a vague gesture to indicate his meaning.

"What?"

"I said I don't-"

"I heard you, Pretty Boy. But you've jacked off for me before."

"You made me," Spencer glared.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You liked it. So…What do you normally do?"

Spencer fidgeted beneath Derek's focus, acutely aware that the topic of conversation was sustaining his issue, rather than distracting his body. It probably didn't help that Derek had moved on to his hands and knees over Spencer in an effort to keep Spencer from looking away.

"Actually um…I usually don't even uh…t-think about it in the mornings. Or…or ever, really. I just sort of…get ready for school or uh…ignore it. And it goes away on its own."

Spencer's blush had worked its way from pink to red, and he was sure that soon he'd turn purple. Derek's eyes, previously wide with shock, narrowed and he smirked.

Strike that. He was as white as the sheets he'd slept on. But Derek must have sensed his intent to bolt. He snatched Spencer's wrists and pinned them on either side of his head against the pillows, letting his own knees slide slowly back so his hips were lowered to Spencer's.

He's still aroused too…

Spencer's whine from the pressure became a moan when Derek gently bucked his hips.

"Shhh, Pretty Boy. We've got another hour before we have the house to ourselves. Promise me you won't move and I'll shut the door."

"P-promise. I promise!" Spencer hissed as Derek's body lifted.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his body, think clearly. If they were going to do this…well, whatever this was, he needed to use the opportunity to gather more data… But he was still tired…

"AH!" Spencer's eyes flew open.

"No, no, no. You don't get to go back to sleep," Derek chuckled softly, loosening his grip on Spencer's reawakening arousal. "But really, Pretty Boy, you've got to keep it down. It's just a door, it's not sound proof." His smirk was unrepentant as he watched the slender body in his bed squirm under teasing touches.

Derek ceased his ministrations to return to his previous position over Spencer, smile darkening. He kept one of Spencer's wrists pinned and pulled the other hand down to the baggy waist band of the borrowed pajamas. Releasing Spencer's hand, Derek grinned wolfishly.

"Um…I don't…" Spencer trailed off in confusion, crinkling his forehead and gnawing his lip. "I don't understand what you want…"

He shuddered when Derek's hips collided with his own, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. Derek continued the motion, slow and steady.

He lowered his head, turning to whisper in Spencer's ear, close enough that Spencer could feel the movement of his lips, "I want you to touch yourself. Every night before you fall asleep, every morning when you wake up. I want you getting off while you think of me. So show me how you'd do it. Now."

Derek forced Spencer's hand around his erection and squeezed.

~End Dream

Spencer came with a cry and shot up in his bed. Alone. It was a dream.

He stared at the mess staining his pants and fell back with a groan. He missed Derek.

What's he doing? Is he thinking of me like he promised?

… … … Flashback: Various Team Member POV … … …

"So…That's why I need your help introducing my Christmas trip to Reid at lunch today."

"You want us to lie to Boy Genius?" Mat seemed to be the only one capable of speaking.

"No, no! Well, not directly. Just…don't say anything about it. Make it sound normal."

"It is normal. You go see family every Christmas, but you usually only stay for a week…" Adam was unbelievably confused.

"Exactly. All I need you to do is pretend me being gone all month is what's always happened."

"Morgan, why can't you just tell him what you're doing?" Rob knew a shitty plan when he heard one. And this one had started with the three stooges deciding to rope the poor kid to the flagpole. Sure, Rob had laughed his ass off then (and participated in his own fair share of Reid-torture prior to that), but that was because he was an insensitive asshole on the best of days. Boy Genius was starting to grow on him, though. He just had to work real hard not to think about the fact that they were both guys. That still made him nauseous.

"Because I don't know what I'm doing! I just…need more time to think about it." Morgan grabbed his bag off the floor at the sound of the bell. "Just help me out, ok? I'll talk to him about it later. Really."

Travis still hadn't managed to wrap his mind around this. He had the most relationship experience of anyone on the team and he knew for a solid fact that lying always complicated things. Reid seemed like a decent kid, he'd probably be supportive of anything Morgan wanted to do.

"This is why two newbies together rarely work out," Travis sighed. "But it's his shithole to dig and he won't learn if he doesn't screw up."

The other three nodded their agreement.

… … … End Flashback … … …


	17. Talk Dirty to Me

… … … Flashback: Mrs. Morgan's POV … … …

Oh, honey-ahaha-y-you think I didn't know?" She waived the explanation away with a breathless laugh. "You don't treat Spencer like any friend I've ever known you to have, sweetheart. I figured the first time you brought him home that Spencer was part of the mess Aaron had a talk with you about. Of course, now that you've made the hunch a fact, Spencer, I'm going to have to insist you sleep in the spare bedroom when you stay over." Mrs. Morgan winked as she said this. There was no way two healthy boys were going to keep their hands to themselves. If she forbid Spencer from staying here, Derek would just sneak around and that wasn't something she wanted to encourage. "Now, Derek, get him cleaned up. Aaron and I can handle the kitchen."

She watched the boys make their way up the stairs.

Better they stay here, where I know they're safe.

"Alright, Aaron let's get this cleaned up." Between the two of them it didn't take long. Aaron finished the dishes while she mopped up the greasy smears the pizza left on the floor.

Derek was silent and broody for the rest of the night. Spencer seemed especially shy. Aaron just ignored the behavior.

Mrs. Morgan shook her head with a smile and slipped into her thoughts.

I'm almost certain that was their first kiss. Odd. I don't think Derek has ever been one to take things slowly with someone he's interested in. This could be very good for him. He's applying himself more in his studies finally. And I can't believe he's honestly thinking about college. I'd given up on that for him. To be willing to take part of his break… I know they're young, but I hope Spencer is one that lasts.

The boys were still sitting in an awkward silence when she said good night.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer managed to get his sheets washed before his parents were up. He had coffee on and started on breakfast. Anything to keep his mind off his dream. The last thing he needed was a hard on in the middle of the kitchen. And if he stayed in his room all morning, his mother would certainly come to check in and make sure he wasn't relapsing into illness/depression. So when his parents woke up, it was to a bustling Spencer who'd cleaned the majority of the living room and the entire kitchen. There was a selection of jams to go with homemade biscuits, eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns.

"Spencer…" his father was hesitant to step on the shiny floor. Mrs. Reid didn't even bother, she simply sat down at the table and started filling her plate. Spencer owed her easy acceptance to the strange sixth sense mothers tend to have.

"Do you want coffee? I kept it warm in the carafe so it wouldn't burn." Spencer held the old-fashioned jug in one hand and a clear glass pitcher in the other. "Or maybe fresh squeezed orange juice? I tried one of them the other day and it seems we're having an excellent citrus season. There must have been just the right combination of precipitation and sunshine. Did you know our oranges weigh approximately 7.05 ounces on average?"

"Son, how long have you been up?" Mr. Reid cautiously sat down and placed a few sausages on his plate. "Is that the first pot of coffee?"

"Oh, this? Yes! I made the French Vanilla you and Mom like so much and put it in the carafe." Spencer's father sighed in relief, then Spencer added, "The two pots after that didn't last long enough to burn."

"Oh God…" His father covered his face with his hand, but Spencer's mother merely chuckled.

"But you asked how long I've been up. Let's see. I thought it was around 6 o'clock when I woke up this morning, but it must have been closer to 5, because it takes a long time to make fresh orange juice without a juicer, and you don't get much juice per orange. We should invest in one. It took me an average of 8.6 minutes to squeeze each orange, 17 oranges to fill this pitcher, roughly enough for four 8 ounce glasses, so…36.55 minutes per serving." Spencer paused and considered this for the first time all morning. "That's a lot of effort for one glass of orange juice. Stop me if I'm rambling."

"Sit down, Spencer, you're rambling," Mrs. Reid said with a smile. "And I would love a glass of what I'm sure will be the finest orange juice I've ever had."

"No more coffee, son."

"Yes, sir." Spencer poured his mother a glass of juice.

He managed to burn off a bit more of his energy cleaning the rest of the living room and reorganizing his bookshelf, only to decide he preferred his original method. By the time he left for the football field, Spencer could almost pass for a regular human. The snow had melted somewhat and it was just above freezing, so the team would most likely be there.

Spencer watched the team tear across the field, throwing slushy snowballs as often as the football. When they made an actual play, Aaron provided an explanation. Spencer was coming to find he truly enjoyed watching the sport when he knew what was going on. Frankly, he was amazed at how instinctually intelligent these boys were. So much of making passes and running lines was all geometry, physics, and calculus. And they made decisions spur of the moment with the hope with their math was correct, not even knowing they were making the calculations.

Well…maybe they aren't making the calculations and that's why they lose all the time. But they definitely play much better when it's only for practice.

Spencer laughed softly to himself. The game had devolved into an all-out snowball fight. They'd built barricades earlier, but the rising sun was slowly melting them away. Aaron didn't bother to stop them; it was almost lunch time anyway. Spencer wondered which side Derek would have been on. Wondered if Derek was thinking of him at all while he was with that girl… Spencer's shoulders slumped forward as his thoughts began to fuel themselves.

Think of me first…Please.

Spencer hated that so many of his thoughts of Derek were attached to this girl.

"Spencer!"

His head snapped up. "Ethan!"

The tall boy was standing on the other side of the field. Long coat unbuttoned and hanging loose, jeans and t-shirt lightly rumpled. His long hair was pulled up. It looked good on him. Calm and confident looked good on him too. Ethan held out his arms, smiling slightly.

Spencer felt heat rise to his cheeks as he leapt from the bleachers to cross the field. The snowball fight had stopped when Ethan called out. All eyes were on the pair when Spencer launched into Ethan's waiting arms and wrapped his own long limbs around Ethan's neck.

Derek. Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

Ethan couldn't have come at a better time. He always brought Spencer's attraction to Derek back to its most basic state.

"How did you know to find me here?" Spencer asked after letting his arms slide down.

"Well, I went by your house first to take you out to lunch, but your mother told me you'd already left to see your friends," Ethan replied, keeping one arm casually draped over Spencer's shoulders. There was grumbling behind him.

Oh, right. Introductions.

"Ethan, this is the majority of Stewart's football team. Everyone, this is Ethan. He's an old friend from elementary school." The intro was a bit vague, but Spencer didn't want to admit he'd forgotten half of their names again.

I need index cards with their names and photos.

Ethan leaned down and rested his chin on top of Spencer's head. He waved and smiled cheerfully.

Aaron's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Mat and Travis held Adam back when it looked like he was about to lunge.

Spencer glanced at them and shook his head, figuring it was just another scuffle.

"Reid, we're going out to lunch again today. Would you and your friend like to join us?"

"Wha-" Adam clamped a hand over Travis's mouth. Mat looked at Aaron oddly.

Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but Ethan beat him to it. "Sorry, but I'm just going to steal him away for a while. We still have a lot to catch up on. I'm going to be here for the rest of the month, so I'm sure we'll get another chance to join you all."

Ethan's arm tightened around Spencer's shoulders, forcing him to turn and follow as the older boy headed down the slope to his car.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Spencer called back, trotting to keep up with Ethan's longer stride.

After a small amout of bickering, they settled on Chinese. Ethan attempted to teach Spencer to use chopsticks and failed miserably.

Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

They trolled the small toy store by the mall and Ethan got them kicked out after he careened down the aisles on a tricycle. Spencer laughed so hard he teared up and small children stared at him.

Derek Derek Derek Derek Derek…

On the way home, they stopped by the grocery store and picked up supplies for what Ethan swore was the best pizza he'd ever had.

When it finally came out of the oven, Spencer was forced to agree with him.

I wonder if Derek would like it.

Ethan went home not long after dinner and Spencer sat down for a few rounds of online chess with the_hero70. He was fairly certain that he had the last match in the bag…until 'hero' beat him in four.

the_hero70: Keep trying, kid. You're catching on.

Spencer fell asleep grumbling and wishing a slow (figurative) death on whomever 'hero' was.

The next morning was much calmer. Spencer washed the dishes when breakfast was finished and ran out to the football field. The boys seemed more focused today, definitely quieter…In fact, a bit too quiet. They were almost a little annoyed. Lunch time rolled around and Ethan showed up again. The game stopped immediately.

He came around to bleachers this time for his hug, which Spencer happily gave. Ethan excused them, but before he could walk Spencer off to his car, Adam called out:

"Hey, Boy Genius! Morgan asked me to get your number last night. He's been wantin' to call, but apparently you two never thought to exchange them."

Spencer nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Yes! I-I mean yeah, sure. But is there-I don't carry-" Spencer mumbled almost to himself as he looked for a pen in his pockets. "Does anyone have something to write with?"

He was met with a chorus of no's and shaking heads.

"Umm…what's the likelihood of you remembering this?"

"Slim to none, sorry kid." Adam looked sheepish.

"Here you go, Spencer. Found one." Ethan passed over a pen he'd found deep in his inner coat pocket.

Spencer brightened. "Thank you!"

Adam glared at Ethan, but held out his hand for Spencer to write the number down.

"He should call you. Very soon," Travis's glare put Adam's to shame.

They'd made it to Ethan's car when he turned to Spencer. "I don't think your friends like me very much."

"Don't be silly, you're imagining it."

He and Ethan spent the rest of the day together, alternating who paid for what and who picked the activity. It was passed 10pm when Ethan dropped Spencer off at his house.

Spencer kicked off his shoes in the foyer and hung up his coat. The phone was ringing, but his mother was closer.

"Spencer, it's Derek," his mother called from the kitchen. "Again. He's called three times now."

Spencer ran down the hallway and grabbed the phone from the wall, shutting his door behind him.

"Hi!" Spencer flinched when it came out sounding desperate and breathless.

"Hey, kid."

Spencer frowned slightly in confusion. Derek sounded a little angry. Distant.

But he called me. From what I understand, being willing to initiate contact first indicates a desire for closeness.

Well, if he'd called Spencer to perk himself up, that was perfectly fine.

"Are you ok? You sound…annoyed."

"Do I really? Hm. I suppose that's one way to describe it."

Contemplative tone. I don't think I'm understanding the situation.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah, Pretty Boy, I think there is."

Now he was cocky, snide almost, with just a touch of affection. He would be wearing that smirk he got when Spencer made him angry and he used physical intimacy as a pseudo punishment.

"You in your bedroom, kid?"

"Yes…"

"Door shut?"

"Yes."

"Strip."

Spencer's eyes widened comically.

"Excuse me?"

"Take your clothes off. Now, Reid." Derek's voice hardened, followed by portions of Spencer's anatomy.

What's going on… Is this phone sex? I read a little about that. But it's usually more, well, mutual.

"Umm…I don't-"

"That wasn't a suggestion. Unbutton your shirt." The tone permitted no argument.

Spencer's shaking fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. "I-I-"

"Slow down, baby. Don't be so nervous. I just want to play with you a little bit," Derek practically purred in his ear. But the pitch was wrong. It was deep, but cold. Clinical almost.

That preposition is wrong. He doesn't mean "with" as in together. He means "with" like he'd play with a toy.

"Stand in front of your mirror."

Spencer crossed the room and stared at his reflection. Flushing cheeks, shifting feet, one hand pulling at his hair.

"N-now what?" Spencer shivered, feeling exposed even though no one could see him.

"Drag your nails over your chest."

This shiver was due to physical sensation.

"Harder," Derek ordered. "Hard enough to leave marks."

"Nn!" Spencer whimpered, watching slender red trails flare up across his chest and down to his ribs.

"Pinch your nipples. Both of them."

"Aa…" Spencer's blushed brightened as he watched his nipples harden. He had to shift and hold the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Derek-"

"Hush. If I'm not asking you a direct question, I don't want to hear anything from you but moans."

Spencer flinched at the reprimand, even if Derek did soften his tone a bit for it.

He's really angry. At me.

"Pinch them again. Harder. You can take it."

"Ungh!" The flush of embarrassment spread down Spencer's chest, turning his light pink nipples a rosy red. The sudden increase in blood flow puckered the tightened skin further.

"Good boy."

Softer, lower octave. Pleased.

Spencer couldn't help but brighten at the praise.

"Run your nails across them."

"Haa!" Spencer gasped at the spark of pleasure. His erection was beginning to strain against his pants now.

"Take off your pants."

He shucked the too-tight clothing quickly, grateful for the relief.

"You're wearing boxers, aren't you?" Derek sounded annoyed again.

Spencer stared at the underwear covering him in his mirror. Star Trek.

"Y-yes…"

"Ugh. You always have too many clothes on. When I get back, stop wearing them."

"What?" Spencer nearly dropped the phone.

"If I'm sliding my hand in your pants to grab your cock, the last thing I want in my way is more goddamn clothing." The purr again.

Spencer's arousal throbbed in response to the explicit language, as well as the image he conjured to match it.

"T-then I won't wear them anymore."

"Take them off." He could hear the smirk in Derek's words.

The small boxers fell on top of the wrinkled slacks.

"Can you face your mirror from your bed?"

"Y-yeah."

"Then get on your bed and spread your legs."

Spencer crawled to the middle of his bed and propped himself up on his pillows. "Okay…" Spencer kept his eyes on his ceiling.

"You're not looking. Look at the mirror, Reid. I want you to look at what I do to you, even from so far away. Can anyone else do this for you?"

A harsh, whispered demand. With a struggle, he lifted his eyes and took in the image before him. His body was trembling and pink all over. His arousal was heavy and dark between his legs. The flesh of his scrotum tightened around his balls as he watched. Spencer was grateful he didn't have to lie.

"No…Just you."

"Hn. Touch yourself. Squeeze your balls."

"Ngh!" Spencer barely held in his moan.

"Not even Ethan?"

"Wha-"

"Squeeze harder." Derek cut the question off quickly.

"Agh! Dere-" Spencer tried to explain, but he was cut off again.

"Does he not touch you like this? I bet you're dripping by now. Smear it down your cock and lick your fingers clean."

He couldn't help the light slurping sounds as he followed Derek's orders. Couldn't help that they were so blatantly sexual either.

"No! He doesn't touch me at all, I swear!" Spencer needed Derek to believe him. He didn't want anyone else. Yes, he had a small crush on Ethan, but that only served to emphasize how much stronger his feelings for Derek were. He was much more than a crush.

"Liar. Pull your balls," Derek snarled. "Hard."

"Aah!" Spencer bit his lip to keep from crying out any louder. He tasted blood. "I-I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are. From what I understand, you ran to him and basically threw yourself into his arms. And you've done that more than once. Is that not correct?" Cold again.

"It's not-The context-" Spencer's erection was flagging as he became more distressed.

"Doesn't matter. Jerk off. Can't let my Pretty Boy lose interest." Back to smirking. Punishing. "Don't stop until I tell you to. Don't cum until I tell you to."

He left Spencer in agonizing pleasure for nearly ten minutes as he spoke.

"I can't hold you in public. It's barely even safe in front of the team, because letting my guard down with you around them just tricks me into being lax around everyone else. I can't touch you because we have to protect you from all the fucking idiots in our school. Because you of all people being gay would be like open season. So you can't be gay with me. But you can certainly act like it with this Ethan guy! Is he just more worth the risk? Is that it? Anyone in the neighborhood could have seen you!"

Spencer could barely comprehend what Derek was saying, but one thing he knew for sure was that the cold voice was gone. Despite being laced with jealousy, beneath that Spencer heard genuine concern.

"…tell him to stop. I'll tell him to stop. Please, Derek, let me cum, please! It hurts…"

Is this what they mean by blue balls?

"Hmmm. No more enthusiastic hugs. No more clinging."

"No. None. I promise!"

"I'll hold you to that. Cum for me, baby," Derek growled.

Spencer groaned as he came, catching as much as he could in his hand, and collapsed back against the pillows. He had a crick in his neck from holding the phone.

"You know the rules, Pretty Boy." Spencer moaned softly as he lapped the cum from his palm. "That's it," Derek murmured. "It's late there, you need some sleep. Get under your covers."

Spencer dragged his boneless body beneath the sheets. "Derek…I miss you. So much."

His conscious thoughts were already beginning to merge with dreams when Derek replied.

"I miss you too, baby. G'night."

The warmth of the words stayed with him as he slid fully into his dreams and the phone tumbled to the mattress.

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

Derek nearly groaned as he kissed his Pretty Boy properly for the first time. This was going to be a challenge for him. He'd had a taste and it was going to take all of his self-control not to gorge. He gripped the locks in his hands a little tighter.

Good thing I'm going to be gone for a while. Maybe a little distance will help me get this under control.

Spencer mewled into his mouth and Derek wasn't so sure distance was going to help at all. The smaller boy hadn't really agreed to this, but he didn't seem to have any objections.

Derek's teeth hit Spencer's as he pushed his tongue further into the kid's mouth. He growled low in his throat and tugged at the silky strands woven between his fingers when Spencer pushed his own tongue back against the invading muscle.

He tastes so good… Sweet almost.

Derek caught Spencer when his knees gave out. He greedily swallowed the accompanying moan. He wasn't going to be able to keep Spencer supported through the whole kiss, so he forced the boy back towards the bed, controlling his movements with the firm hold on his hair. Derek was quite proud that he managed to keep their lips locked through the entire process.

He released Spencer's hair, smiling at the whimpered protest and kissed him harder. He gathered Spencer's wrists in one hand and stretched them far enough over his head to approach uncomfortable. With the other hand, he pinned Spencer's slender hips to the bed.

Don't want him squirming too much.

He forced a thigh between lanky legs, grinding it into Spencer's steadily growing erection. Having the kid trapped beneath him this way with any portion of Derek inside him was pushing Derek to his limits. It wasn't his intention to be so rough, but he always lost control with Spencer. And this time was no exception.

Derek forced Spencer's mouth wider with the weight of his kiss, wanting to take as much as he could. Then blood was coating his tongue and sliding between their lips.

Crap. This is getting a little TOO rough.

He almost pulled away, but the second Spencer noticed, the kid went a little crazy. He moaned and bucked up into Derek, fighting back against the tongue dominating his mouth for the first time. Derek snarled softly and slammed his hips into Spencer's, keeping him down with his weight. When that wasn't enough he pulled sharply on the wrists in his, knowing the stretch was going to get painful quickly. That took care of it. Spencer relaxed and his hot little mouth opened even wider if that was possible.

Derek knew he wasn't going to last much longer and suspected Spencer was experiencing the same predicament. He hurriedly undid his own pants and Spencer's, pulling both swollen members out. The kid made a strangled noise and Derek shuddered, loving that he had so much power in this. He pushed his own arousal against Spencer's. With a groan, Derek slowly began jerking them both off.

Jesus fucking Christ!

He'd have to do some sort of penance for that thought later.

Derek continued the heavy ministrations until he thought for sure he would pass out, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He felt his own orgasm building and stroked faster, kissed harder. The boy beneath him was a moaning, writhing mess. Derek groaned and locked onto the split lower lip with his teeth, biting softly. Spencer's keen pushed him over the edge. He hardly noticed that Spencer came with him.

He pulled back slowly and ran his eyes over the body beneath him. Flushed and gasping. Lips and chin smeared with blood. Eyes hazy and sated.

Mine. Fuck, I'm not going to be able to let him go.

"That, Pretty Boy, was a kiss."

… … … End Flashback … … …


	18. Relationship 101: The Importance of Communication

… … … Flashback: Aaron's POV … … …

Aaron drummed his fingertips on the side of his glass, growing more impatient with every ring. "Pick up the damn phone, Mor-Hello, Mrs. Morgan, it's Aaron. Is your son available?"

"I'm sorry, Aaron, he's still out with Cecilia, but he should be back in a few minutes. He can only handle her for short periods of time," Mrs. Morgan chuckled. "I can't imagine what he would have done if he'd actually dated someone like her."

"Oh, no doubt it would have been a source of entertainment for all of us, ma'am," Aaron agreed with a shake of his head.

"Ah, that boy… Oh well, what can you do? Maybe Spencer will whip him into shape. He's already improved so much-I'm sorry, Aaron, I'm just going on. Would you like me to tell him you called? Or I can give you the room number, but you already have it since you called up, don't you?"

"Actually no, Mrs. Morgan, I don't. Derek told me what hotel you'd be in, so I called the front desk and they transferred me up. But if it's only a few minutes, I don't mind waiting. The wonder of Christmas at home is there's no pressure to be anywhere."

He heard Mrs. Morgan sigh over the line. "So true. Two nights here and I'm already exhausted. I think I've eaten enough to survive for the rest of the month. And I have a headache the size of Texas. I love my family, but there's a reason we don't all live in the same state."

Aaron nearly choked on his water.

"Aaron Hotchner, get your mind out of the gutter! That was a fluke. And they aren't even related by blood. Admittedly, it was disturbing, but it could have been worse," Mrs. Morgan laughed outright at this.

"Of course, it could have, but then you probably would have had to move. As it is, I'm amazed Derek was able to live it down," Aaron replied.

"True. I couldn't believe it when I showed up to that game and Cecilia was on his arm. I didn't even know she and her sister still lived there. That's what I get for not staying in touch with my family. Oh, Derek was so horrified!" Mrs. Morgan laughed. "Can you imagine what his reaction would have been if he'd ever kissed her? Almost as bad as mine when I figured out he was still seeing that airheaded cheerleader while he was-what is it called now-'talking' with Cecilia."

Aaron happened to know for a fact that they had kissed, but Morgan had sworn him to silence on that topic.

"He and Trish did have a notoriously open relationship. I suspect she had her fair share of alternative interests, as well, if that helps."

"A bit, I suppose. I'm glad his taste has improved." Mrs. Morgan brightened considerably.

"Speaking of, what are the plans for touring campuses?"

"That schedule is rapidly filling up. Four of the schools on his list, which I'm assuming you helped with, have slots available for tours over this break and are in the area, so we're going to all of them. I'm worried Derek's going to start pushing himself too hard to make up for dragging his feet for so long. Keep an eye on him, would you, Aaron?"

"MA! He's not my keeper!"

Aaron held the phone away from he's ear to save his eardrum.

"Well, Aaron, it's always nice to speak with you. I'll hand the phone over to Derek now. Enjoy the rest of your break."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll try." Aaron heard murmurs and a door shut.

"What the fuck, Hotch? How long did you sit here and talk about me with my mom?"

"I'm assuming from your language that she's gone?"

"Yeah, she went to go use the sauna thing by the pool. Now what is so important that you were willing to wait for me?"

"I think you should talk to Reid soon. He doesn't seem to be handling your brush off well at all. He's paler than ever, and it looks like he's lost weight."

"Shit, seriously? I thought he forgave me for not telling him already? But he was acting really weird before I left."

I wonder… "Morgan, does Reid know the story behind Cecilia?"

"Of course he does. Everyone does. He has to. It was all over the school."

"He didn't respond well to the guys joking over it at lunch the other day…"

"Well, he said he wasn't hungry. Maybe he really is getting sick."

"And yet, I have the feeling it's not that simple. You need to talk to him. And remind me again, why didn't you tell him you're looking into colleges?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise!"

"You realize that your surprise looks really suspicious if he thinks you're interested in someone else, right?"

"Look, Hotch, I have had this talk with him already. He knows I'm not that much of an asshole an-"

"But the problem is you actually are."

"Shut up!"

"Fine. I've said all I'm going to say on it. Do what you want."

Aaron hung up the phone without saying good bye. He never saw the point in that.

Morgan needs to figure out what he's doing with Reid. It's unfortunate that his first real relationship is with someone who's naturally going to be insecure with this situation. I wish they both had more experience. Reid's not standing up for himself and Morgan's assuming too much. I don't see this ending well.

… … … End Flashback … … …

~Dream

Spencer moaned into the mouth engulfing his own, arched as nails raked down his sides. The soft lips pressed to his grew more demanding, and Spencer's eyes slid shut as he gave himself over to the kiss and the warm body bearing down on him. Broad hands gripped his hips, calloused thumbs caressed the prominent bones. The kiss deepened, turning frantic. Spencer whimpered and rutted and squirmed as the body above him began a rhythmic rocking, but the hands holding him down kept him from lifting to meet the thrusts. He could feel his orgasm rising and the teasing friction became unbearable. Then both pairs of pants were suddenly gone, and Spencer was certain this had to be a dream, but it felt so good.

Burying his hands in hair that rivaled his own in length, Spencer's lids lifted and he lost himself in the warm, honey brown eyes. He cried out his partner's name as he came.

"Ethan!"

~End Dream

Spencer's eyes flew open and he clapped both hands over his mouth, panting in horror.

It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. Dreams of a sexual nature with an individual typically indicate a desire for a closer relationship. They're not necessarily the manifestation of attraction or lust.

Well, maybe Spencer wasn't lusting after Ethan, but he was definitely attracted to him. But only a little bit.

It's because Derek kept mentioning him last night. That's all. It's nothing. I just need some time to calm down and distance myself from this. The visitation for Ethan's relative is this afternoon and the funeral is later tonight, so I won't see him today. I need to keep my mind off of this. Maybe the guys will go out to lunch again.

Spencer stayed home long enough to help his mother finish decorating the living room. The empty space beneath the tree caught his eye.

Crap! I haven't finished Christmas shopping!

That is to say, he hadn't even started. At least he only had to shop for two.

Wait. What's the protocol on Derek? And Ethan? He joked that the car was an early Christmas present. Did he mean to imply he's getting me something? Ugh, I liked it better when the only people I worried about were my parents.

He'd ask his mother about it later. Right now, he was late for football.

Practice had already started when Spencer got there. He was surprised to see Aaron out on the field with them this time. Not so surprised to watch his side win that scrimmage, and the next one too.

"What the hell, Hotch! Can't you switch sides once in a while?" Adam groused, kicking the dirt and breathing heavily.

"You guys flipped a coin. Your side lost. I play with them for today. The concept is very simple," Aaron replied, rolling his eyes.

"But-"

"Stop bitching, Adam, we lost. And it's lunch time and my stomach's gonna gnaw my insides out if somebody doesn't feed me!" Travis whined, clutching his stomach dramatically.

Aaron turned to Spencer. He sat up quickly. Not a single one of the players had acknowledged him throughout the practice, and he wasn't sure why.

"No Ethan today?" Aaron's eyes were calm and calculating.

The rest of the team had stilled to listen.

Oh. That's why. Of course. Because my relationship with Ethan seemed so suspicious… I'm starting to think Ethan was right. These guys really don't like him.

The thought brought the dream Spencer had been working to ignore to the front of his mind and his chilled cheeks heated quickly.

"No, the funeral he's in town for is today," Spencer mumbled.

"He didn't look very upset about his loss," Chandler commented dryly.

"Apparently, it's an incredibly distant relative," Spencer said with a shrug.

"That's not what he meant, Genius." Mat sighed when Spencer blinked in confusion. "Never mind."

"Guys, I'm still dying here!" Travis draped himself over Rob's shoulder to complain directly in his ear.

"Jesus Christ! Get the fuck off of me, you idiot!" Rob shoved him away covering the offended ear. "Hotch, feed him, damn it!"

Aaron ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "Reid, will you be joining us?"

"Of course he will."

Spencer yelped as arms wrapped around his waist and tossed him over a broad shoulder. "Adam, put me down!" He beat his fists against Adam's back, blushing as the others laughed.

"Give it up, Genius. You're even smaller than me. And this bastard is practically impervious to pain." Chandler poked Adam sharply in the ribs.

Spencer groaned and slumped over Adam's shoulder. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"You guys need to be careful of how handsy you get with Reid when Morgan comes back. I won't stop him if he goes for blood."

"Awww, Hotch, come on!"

"Speaking of Morgan," Anderson slipped up beside Spencer and Adam, "have you heard from him?"

Spencer blushed hotly. "Y-yeah, he called last night."

"Oh? What did he have to say?" Chandler asked casually.

"He uh-He doesn't like Ethan." Spencer didn't even bother to ask which of the boys had told Derek about his friend. They would cover for one another.

"Really? What a shame," Mat quipped cheerfully.

Adam didn't put Spencer down until they'd reached the sidewalk. The team said no more of Ethan or Derek, instead creating a general ruckus around Aaron until he finally snatched Travis's hat and hit Jones over the head with it.

Spencer was grateful for the antics. They kept his mind clear and his thoughts light. These boys were quickly becoming as important to his happiness as Derek was.

It was dark and beginning to snow when Aaron and Thomas dropped Spencer off at his door.

"No practice tomorrow, Reid. The weather channel estimated six inches by morning and another 80% chance of snow tomorrow," Aaron called from the yard as Spencer ran up the steps.

"Oh, alright. Thank you for walking me home."

They waved from the end of the driveway and stayed put until he'd shut the door behind him.

He needed to talk to Ethan tomorrow. Spencer picked up the phone and called the hotel, certain that they would be back by now. Ethan was the one to answer.

"Hi, it's Spencer… I'm glad I caught you… Well, it's good that you it at least went faster than you expected… Haha, not knowing anyone always makes it awkward… Yeah, there is. I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow if it hasn't snowed too much… No, I just want to talk with you…Sure, the mall sounds fun, if it's safe to drive… I'm not sure that leaving early and getting stuck there is a better plan, Ethan… Uh-huh. Anyway, I'm going to let you go, I have a chess game waiting for me.

I hope this is a good idea… But he's going to be very confused if I just suddenly start refusing to hug him.

The more intelligent portion of his brain was asking why that necessitated spending an entire day with Ethan, and not just telling him when Spencer'd had him on the phone. Spencer ignored it. It was too late now anyway.

And I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm following Derek's instructions.

An hour later, Spencer kicked his desk as he lost for a fourth time. He'd never lost this quickly to anyone!

the_hero70: I don't know where your mind is, Kid, but it's not here. Go to bed. You're getting reckless and losing is only making it worse.

Spencer logged off and snatched up Derek's Sexual Autopsy, lifting the cover to the first page.

This is ridiculous! I'm not cheating on him and I don't intend to, so why the hell do I feel so guilty about hanging out with a FRIEND?

He gripped it roughly between his fingers and pulled sharply.

I'm not doing anything wrong, damn it! I'm not doing what he is!

The jagged sound of ripping paper stung his ears and he dropped the notebook as if it burned him. His stomach lurched abruptly. He was going to be sick. Again.

Spencer splashed cool water on his face and leaned his head against the bathroom mirror, trying to control his ragged breathing.

He walked back into his room and picked up the notebook on the floor. After very carefully taping the page back together, Spencer crawled into his bed, clutching the notebook to his chest.

Week Three

When Spencer woke up on Sunday, he put the notebook back in its place and tried to pretend that hadn't happened.

His parents immersed themselves in one of their giant puzzles after breakfast. Spencer curled up with his coffee and his oldest volume of Proust to wait for Ethan. The streets had been plowed early that morning and for now the sky looked clear.

When the doorbell rang he grabbed his coat and told his parents he'd be back later.

Ethan was waiting for him on the porch with open arms and an inviting smile.

Crap…

Spencer shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and Ethan's smile became one of confusion.

"Umm… Ethan, I don't think-It's kind of odd-That is-uh…"

Why didn't I think further ahead on this?

Ethan's arms dropped to hang limply at his sides.

"How about we just hang out for a bit while you figure out what you're trying to say?"

Spencer sighed and rubbed his palms against his eyes. "Yeah, ok."

The drive to the mall was silent and tense.

Spencer tugged at his hair and plucked at a loose thread on his sleeve. Ethan looked like he was starting to lose his patience. Spencer wandered quietly through the stores, looking for Christmas presents. He'd found his parents' easily enough. The problem now was what to get for Derek, if anything. And Ethan. Ethan was a problem in general.

"Spencer, are you going to say anything about this or not? You're the one who called me, remember?" Ethan snapped.

Spencer flinched. "I know, I just… Can we go somewhere a bit more private? The crowd is making me nervous."

Ethan sighed and tilted his head. "Private? Spencer, what is this about?"

"I can't… Umm… The thing is… Ugh! This is ridiculous!" Spencer clenched his fists and stopped in the middle of this aisle. "Ethan, I'm not allowed to hug you anymore!"

The general chaos of the mall quieted as people turned and stared at the pair. Ethan's jaw dropped and Spencer blushed furiously.

"I'm sorry, that was way too loud," he mumbled.

"How about somewhere more private, yeah?" Ethan grabbed his arm and dragged him out the nearest exit.

They ended up on a park bench on the far side of town. Once again, Spencer found himself unable to speak during the drive.

And once again, I have proven myself to be a socially inept idiot and a coward.

"Well, at least no one's here."

Ethan was right. The park was empty and, judging from the pristine layer of snow, no one had been all day.

"So, why exactly aren't you allowed to hug me anymore?" Ethan brushed the snow off the closest bench and threw a folded blanket over it, then sat down.

Spencer looked askance at the material.

"I think we're going to be here a while and I really don't feel like literally freezing my ass off on a concrete bench." Ethan's chuckle was forced.

"Oh… That's true." Spencer sat down beside him with a sigh. He carefully kept a foot between them.

Several silent minutes passed.

"Spencer…"

"Ugh! I know, I know, I'm sorry… Okay. I'll explain. Sort of. My… significant other doesn't want me to hug you anymore." Spencer's words tumbled out in a jumbled mess.

"What?" Ethan stared at him in confusion.

Spencer took a calming breath. "The person I'm seeing right now doesn't like that I hug you so enthusiastically."

"So an unenthusiastic hug is fine?" Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"No! No, I'm not supposed to touch you," Spencer mumbled. "At all."

Even though he can touch whoever he wants.

"You seriously let your boyfriend keep that tight of a leash on you?" Ethan leaned back against the bench and gave Spencer an appraising glance.

"N-Who said it was a boyfriend?" Spencer blushed brightly.

We aren't dating. We're… What are we doing?

"You're joking, right? What girl would be that jealous over you hugging a guy? So tall, dark, and broody doesn't like us touching, huh? Or is it the shorter guy with the broad shoulders? Or maybe that lanky one that looked like he wanted to deck me when I gave you a pen? No, wait, it must have been the tan guy with the bleached hair. But the bigger guy with the crooked nose didn't seem to happy with me either." Ethan was smirking now. And a bit closer than when he'd started talking.

Spencer's frown wrinkled his forehead.

"Tall, dark, an-Oh! You mean Aaron? No, no, he's just a friend. And so is… I think that second one is Travis, and then Adam. Anderson is the guy with the bleached hair. And crooked nose. Hmm. Ah, Rob."

Ethan's eyebrow was up again, but the smirk had turned suggestive.

"I think you're trying to make a point with this…" Spencer eased away a bit more.

"I'm saying it looks like you're fucking the entire team."

Spencer shot to his feet. "I'm not fucking any of them! And you have no right to make that kind of insinuation!" He was shouting now and glad they'd picked a secluded area.

Not even fucking the one I'm actually "with." He's saving that for someone else, apparently.

Ethan grabbed his wrist and pulled him, struggling, back down to the bench.

"Calm down, Spencer, jeez. I didn't say you were, I said that's what it looks like. As obvious as it is that you're gay, it's just as obvious you're a virgin," Ethan said, patting Spencer's head.

Excuse me?

Spencer glared at him. "Anyway, you haven't met my-him."

"Your 'him'?"

"Well, we're not exactly dating. So he's not my boyfriend. And we aren't exclusive-"

"You aren't exclusive, but you can't hug me?"

Umm…

"Okay, what I mean is we… Uh. He's…"

We aren't exclusive. He has this girl.

"That is…"

Ethan was watching him patiently as he sorted the situation out.

So where does he get off telling me…

"He has another girl he's having sex with right now. And I can't even hug you!"

Spencer gritted his teeth in frustration.

"So…" Ethan smirked. "Do I get my hug now?" He turned on the bench and held out his arms.

Spencer stared at the young man beside him for a moment. It was snowing again and the flakes caught easily in his dark hair. His nose was tinted pink from the cold and his right eye crinkled slightly at the corner with his smirk. Spencer crawled forward into the open arms and draped his over Ethan's shoulders, making him blink in surprise. His lips parted as if to say something, but Spencer cut him off.

"You get more than that."

Spencer slid his lips against Ethan's.

… … … Flashback: Team POV … … …

"Morgan, why can't you ever pick up the fuck-Mrs. Morgan, hello. It's Aaron again..."

The team sat in a circle around Hotch's feet in his kitchen. Practice ended immediately after Ethan left with Spencer. Hotch had headed straight home, despite what he'd said about them going out for lunch, so the boys followed him. They whispered to one another while Hotch waited for Morgan to come to the phone.

"Why did Hotch lie about us going out for lunch today?" Travis hissed.

"And why did he invite that asshole?" Adam grumbled.

"To try and stop Spencer from going out alone with him, duh. Now shut up and listen." Rob glared the two boys into silence.

"Yes, it was good talking to you again to Mrs. Morgan… Morgan, call your boy and explain what's going on. Tonight!… Because that-What, Jones?"

Jones was tugging on Hotch's pants leg. "Put him on speaker. We want to hear, too."

There were nods about the circle.

"God, please don't ever let me have children," Hotch muttered. He punched the button and set the receiver down. "Morgan, you're on speaker and the rest of the team is here."

Mat looked at Rob and mouthed 'What?' Rob shrugged and shook his head. No one else seemed to understand either. There were no kids in the house. Sometime the things Hotch said made no sense.

"Hey, guys."

"Hey, Morgan!"

"So what's wrong with Pretty Boy now?"

"There's this guy and he-"

"That creep!"

"What?"

"He wouldn't let him go and-"

"Genius practically jumped on him!"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"-and then they-"

"Would you blockheads shut up!" Hotch shouted over the chaos.

Silence settled and the boys glared at one another petulantly.

"Can someone please explain to me why Reid is jumping on a creep who won't let him go?" Morgan's voice sounded tightly controlled.

Three of the players opened their mouths at once.

"If you can't take turns, I'm turning the speaker off," Hotch snapped.

Mouths closed. Travis tentatively raised his hand.

"Travis."

"This guy showed up at our practice this afternoon. Genius called him Ethan."

"Rob."

"And he held out his arms and Reid ran, like, right across the field and jumped on him to hug him."

"Chandler."

"And when Reid finally let him go, Ethan wouldn't get off of him."

"Mat."

"He was like wrapped around the kid the whole time!"

"Jones."

"So Hotch tried to invite them out to lunch with us, but this ass said, and I quote, 'Sorry, but I'm just going to steal him away for a while. We still have a lot to catch up on. I'm going to be here for the rest of the month, so I'm sure we'll get another chance to join you all.'"

"Can you believe the ner-"

"I wanted to punch hi-"

"Morgan, you need to-"

"This Ethan asshole doesn't ev-"

"ENOUGH!" Hotch roared. He picked up the received and punched the speaker button again. "Living room, now! All of you!"

The boys slinked off to sit on the couches and pout, while Hotch finished the conversation. They listened carefully.

"…Yeah, I know, Morgan. You don't need to shout at me. But we can't do much about it, it's not like he's ours… Well, like I said, you need to explain everything to him before he gets the wrong idea… Yes, that means Cecilia too! In blatant terms. You know he doesn't pick up on social nuances that well… No, it needs to be before then. This guy is probably going to see him every day… So call him!...What do you mean you don't have his number?"

"WHAT?"

"For the last time, shut up!"

… … … End Flashback … … …


	19. Do It Like He Does

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"Are you ok? You sound…annoyed."

Only annoyed? Wow. I have better self control than I thought.

Derek plucked at his sweat soaked shirt. He'd forced himself out on a very long run before he'd made this phone call, partly to keep his temper in check.

"Do I really? Hm. I suppose that's one way to describe it."

Calm. Calm. Calm. Or fucking furious, that works. I thought you knew better than this. I thought you finally understood. And how could you be so reckless? Do you think the football field is some sort of safe haven?

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Help? Seriously? Yeah, you can try to remember just who it is you belong to. Who you bend over for. Who you get on your knees for. I should have dragged you out of homeroom and reminded you before I left. Maybe all this time with the guys is a little too much. We'll have to fix that.

"Yeah, Pretty Boy, I think there is."

Derek's lips stretched in a tight smirk. This would only put a band-aid on the issue, but it was better than nothing.

"You in your bedroom, kid?"

"Yes…"

"Door shut?"

"Yes."

"Strip."

"Excuse me?"

Objection? Oh my. I have deprived you, haven't I, Pretty Boy. Enough to make you turn to this Ethan character? Maybe… That's ok, all of this will go away when I get back. But first, you need to lose the attitude.

"Take your clothes off. Now, Reid." Derek heard his voice harden with his resolve.

"Umm…I don't-"

You're actually trying to argue? Hotch was right, you're not as sure of this as I thought you were. Do you fight Ethan's orders?

Derek's hands fisted in the comforter of the hotel bed. It frustrated him sometimes that they never took any other vacations, but he was glad that his mother always saved up enough to get them a two-bedroom suite for the Christmas trip. It made this a lot easier.

"That wasn't a suggestion. Unbutton your shirt." He nearly snarled the command.

"I-I-"

Calm down. Don't scare him. Reassure.

"Slow down, baby. Don't be so nervous. I just want to play with you a little bit," Derek murmured, trying to keep his tone in check. It still sounded off, even to him. Maybe it was the wording.

That's ok. It might help make my point.

"Stand in front of your mirror."

Crap, I've never been in his room. I hope he has a full length one.

"N-now what?"

Guess so. Now… What would I do to you if I could get my hands on you right now? Get rid of every trace of Ethan left on your body and hmm… God, no! He's definitely not ready for that. Start slow. Maybe someday I'll be able to talk him into that.

"Drag your nails over your chest."

No sound? No, that just won't do.

"Harder," Derek ordered. "Hard enough to leave marks."

"Nn!"

Derek shivered at the whimper. He took a deep breath.

This is not about you, Derek. It's not for your entertainment. Focus. Make sure he's thinking of you.

Derek almost snorted.

Ironic that when I left he was begging me to think of him, and now I'm the one in this position.

"Pinch your nipples. Both of them."

Remember what I do to you.

"Aa… Derek-"

When I'm with you, touching you, you don't have the presence of mind to speak. Do you know what that does to me, little genius?

"Hush. If I'm not asking you a direct question, I don't want to hear anything from you but moans. Pinch them again. Harder. You can take it." Derek knew his tone had softened noticeably, probably due to warm smile that the thought brought.

"Ungh!"

Derek pictured the slender body in his mind's eye. Spencer would be blushing beet red. Trembling with a mixture of humiliation and want.

He would be-He IS beautiful.

"Good boy. Run your nails across them."

"Haa!"

Getting a little breathless, baby? I bet your pants are starting to get a bit tight, too.

"Take off your pants." He waited for the quiet crinkle of slacks falling to the floor. "You're wearing boxers, aren't you?" Derek wrinkled his nose. The kid always wore boxers. Some variation of a Star Trek theme, usually.

"Y-yes…"

Damn it, that has to stop, too.

"Ugh. You always have too many clothes on. When I get back, stop wearing them."

Not before. No need to make it any easier for Ethan the Asshole.

"What?"

Come on, Pretty Boy, this one is fairly simple.

"If I'm sliding my hand in your pants to grab your cock, the last thing I want in my way is more goddamn clothing." Derek felt his body thrum with need as he said the words.

Fuck… No! Not about me!

"T-then I won't wear them anymore."

That's it, that's the Pretty Boy I know.

"Take them off." Pause. "Can you face your mirror from your bed?"

This would be so much easier if I'd actually been to his house.

"Y-yeah."

Oh good. Don't know how this would have worked out otherwise. I don't think he can cum standing up without something to support him. He's always so exhausted after just the first time…

Derek bit his lip and tried in vain to will away his arousal.

"Then get on your bed and spread your legs."

I give up. There's no way I can do this without getting hard. How could anyone picture him stretched out on his bed, hard and needy, and not be turned on?

Except that made Derek think about other people thinking about his Pretty Boy, and it just pissed him off again.

Like Ethan. Ethan would probably enjoy the view… Shit. Calm. Calm.

"Okay…"

Wow, the kid can look at himself this way in the mirror and not squeak? Not likely. Do as you're told, baby, this is the best part.

"You're not looking. Look at the mirror, Reid. I want you to look at what I do to you, even from so far away. Can anyone else do this for you?" Derek demand.

"No…Just you."

There's the squeak. But now the real question. Are you telling the truth?

"Hn. Touch yourself. Squeeze your balls."

"Ngh!"

Derek stood up and paced his room.

"Not even Ethan?"

Where has he touched you? Your hair? Your chest? Your tiny little waist? Those long legs? Does he hold your hand? He's kissed you, hasn't he? Like I do? Has he made you bleed?

"Wha-"

Oh don't even start the innocent business.

"Squeeze harder."

"Agh! Dere-"

Shut up!

"Does he not touch you like this? I bet you're dripping by now. Smear it down your cock and lick your fingers clean."

Has he touched you there? Has he gotten you off? Do you swallow your own cum for him?

Derek slammed his fist into the wall as he listened to the slurping sounds Spencer made.

Fuck… Not about me. Well, it is about me. But not… Argh!

"No! He doesn't touch me at all, I swear!"

Derek froze. That was a blatant lie.

"Liar. Pull your balls," Derek snarled. "Hard."

"Aah! I-I'm not lying."

Two lies. The blood in Derek's veins felt like ice water.

I don't have much right to be upset about lies in general, but at least I'm not lying about this.

"Yes, you are. From what I understand, you ran to him and basically threw yourself into his arms. And you've done that more than once. Is that not correct?"

IN PUBLIC!

"It's not-The context-"

I don't give a flying fuck about the "context." But you're speaking too easily. Unacceptable.

"Doesn't matter. Jerk off. Can't let my Pretty Boy lose interest. Don't stop until I tell you to. Don't cum until I tell you to."

Derek ranted for a good ten minutes after giving those instructions. Most of it was probably nonsense while he tried to distract himself from the hard on tenting his pants. Only the last bit was important anyway.

"… I can't hold you in public. It's barely even safe in front of the team, because letting my guard down with you around them just tricks me into being lax around everyone else. I can't touch you because we have to protect you from all the fucking idiots in our school. Because you of all people being gay would be like open season. So you can't be gay with me. But you can certainly act like it with this Ethan guy! Is he just more worth the risk? Is that it? Anyone in the neighborhood could have seen you!"

And that got right down the other root of Derek's anger. Cheating was one thing (admittedly a very unwise thing). Spencer putting himself in danger was a different matter entirely.

"…tell him to stop. I'll tell him to stop. Please, Derek, let me cum, please! It hurts…"

Oops. Let him go a little too long. But this could be used to my advantage.

"Hmmm. No more enthusiastic hugs. No more clinging."

"No. None. I promise!"

Good boy.

"I'll hold you to that. Cum for me, baby," Derek growled. He gritted his teeth and banged his head on the wall when Spencer groaned. "You know the rules, Pretty Boy." Derek closed his eyes tightly and listened to the moans as Spencer licked away the traces of his orgasm.

And supposedly HE's the masochist in this? He's going to be too exhausted to be of any good now.

"That's it," Derek murmured. "It's late there, you need some sleep. Get under your covers."

He faintly heard the rustle of sheets under Spencer's whispered, "Derek…I miss you. So much."

Derek opened his eyes and watched the shadow of the tree outside his window shift on his wall.

"I miss you too, baby. G'night."

Shit! I was supposed to explain about Cecilia! Oh well. If this doesn't keep you off of him, I don't know what will…

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer gripped Ethan's shoulders tighter and rose up on his knees, forcing Ethan to tilt his head back. He lapped softly at the older boy's lips, uncertain as to how far the he was willing to let this go. He wasn't pushing Spencer away, but he wasn't responding yet either. Pulling back for air, Spencer took the opportunity to search Ethan's face for any signs of protest. The gasping boy looked bewildered, but didn't appear to object in any way. So Spencer stole another kiss, deeper this time. He slipped his tongue between the firm lips, coaxing Ethan to reciprocate.

For several torturous seconds, Spencer thought Ethan was merely going to sit still and humor him, but finally he felt long arms sliding up around his waist. Ethan's lips moved against his and Spencer nearly sighed in relief. He'd reached the peak of his limited expertise at dominating a kiss. Well, honestly, dominating any sort of physical intimacy. Derek always grabbed the reins by this point. But Ethan would take over from here and everything would go smoothly. Spencer tensed in expectation, eager for the brutal intensity sure to come.

Maybe he'll pull my hair as hard as Derek does. Make me kneel on the bench and bend over… Like that time with Derek on the washing machine!

Spencer tried not to show too much desperation. The memories of past trysts experienced under Derek's control tested him sorely.

Calm down. Soon, you'll have it again. Maybe he'll promise me the warmth of the car before he makes me cum in my pants if I can successfully perform a certain technique he likes. That's something Derek would do in this situation.

Except Ethan wasn't taking control. He was just…kissing. Spencer almost hesitated then, but he knew he'd surprised Ethan. Once the older boy became accustomed to the shift in relationship, he'd fill his role well. But Spencer had found over time that he could actually be a terribly impatient person when it came to certain activities. Physical intimacy qualified as one of those activities. So he attempted to prompt the desired dominance by wrapping his tongue around Ethan's just so and sucking hard.

That always gets Derek riled. He shoves me down and grips my wrists too tightly and makes me spread my legs too far apart. If I were kneeling over him like this, he wouldn't be able to pass up the opportunity.

Spencer felt the beginnings of arousal stir as he imagined how the scenario would play out. He knew his kiss was growing more desperate, more needy, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He greedily swallowed the sounds spilling from Ethan's lips.

Moaning. Good sign. Come on, Ethan, Derek would have had this settled by now.

His body ached for some measure of punishing pleasure. If only Ethan would give it to him. The problem seemed to be one of inverse proportionality. The more desperate and demanding Spencer's actions grew, the gentler Ethan became. Spencer's level of confusion rose, but he had to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.

What else does Derek like? He likes it when I slide my hands under his shirt, but it's too cold for that. If I did that here, he would have snatched my hands away and bitten my neck till I begged…Want him… Focus! Umm…

Everything Spencer could think of would go over better in a warmer environment, so he settled for letting his knees spread wider. The position allowed him to press his hips down into Ethan's, with a bit of maneuvering around long coats. At the contact, he groaned into the kiss for the first time—Unheard of with Derek—The arousal he'd created with his imaginings was grateful for the friction.

What is Ethan doing? Derek would have dragged me back to the car with a subtle grip in my hair and finished this in the warmth of his room. He would have asked me if I'd thought he'd let me off easy just because I initiated something outside in the cold. He would have made me tease and touch myself in the car on the way to his house.

Spencer's body burned with the need for more. Ethan was only just now pulling him closer. He was hard; Spencer felt it pressing up against his own erection. But Ethan's movements were slow and languid. From the sounds he was making, he was enjoying himself, but that was it.

He hasn't even bitten me yet! Maybe this is like Derek's way of making me earn my release… I have to get Ethan to a certain state of arousal before he'll give me what I want.

Spencer pivoted his hips, grinding their arousals together. Ethan was probably craving the friction as much as he was.

Come on…

Ethan gasped into Spencer's mouth and grabbed him on either side of his slender ribs, digging fingers into the fabric of Spencer's coat.

Yes! Now he'll-What?

Ethan lifted Spencer up by the hold he had on his waist and pushed him gently off his lap and back onto the blanket. Both boys were panting heavily through slicked red lips. Spencer stared in hungry confusion.

"Shit, Spencer, you have to stop!" Ethan panted, closing his eyes tightly when he saw Spencer's face.

Spencer's stomach began working its way up his throat. Ethan was faking his interest.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to fuck you right here on this bench. I really don't want to deflower a virgin in the snow on a concrete bench in a public park," Ethan groaned.

His internal organs settled down. Ethan was not faking his interest.

Derek would have taken me back to his car.

"But…"

"You're a virgin, right?" Ethan released his hold on Spencer's ribs and ran a hand through his hair.

"Y-yes…" Spencer confirmed with a blush, not sure where this was going.

"Don't you want your first time to be a bit more meaningful than a quick fuck in the cold?"

Spencer flinched at the words.

My first time with Derek would be meaningful anywhere. Alright, he's not Derek, but I'm sure my first time with him would be just as good. Why does it need a certain setting?

Spencer refused to acknowledge that 'good' and 'meaningful' had entirely different connotations.

"I guess," Spencer shrugged his shoulders. He would have to look up this importance of locale when he got home.

"You guess?" Ethan stared at him, incredulous. When Spencer didn't answer, he sighed. "I'm going to need to sit here for a while before I take you home."

Spencer's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I need a cold shower and this is as close as I'm going to get," Ethan gritted out.

Spencer turned on the bench and hugged his knees to his chest, making his coat wrinkle uncomfortably.

Derek doesn't take cold showers. I don't take cold showers, even if I don't masturbate. We never abstain from the pleasure we can provide one another. There's no point to that…I don't want to take a cold shower now. I want Derek.

"Tell me about your not-a-boyfriend."

Spencer glanced up to find Ethan staring at him. "Umm…He's in my class."

"So two years older than you?"

Spencer nodded.

"Where did you meet him? At a football game? Or in a class?" Ethan leaned his head backward over the edge of the bench, presumably searching for something to provide more discomfort than just the cold.

At least I know he finds me attractive.

"No, we don't actually have any classes together. And I don't go to football games. I'm not…welcome." Spencer thought back to the one game he'd attended. He never would have lasted this long if he'd attended sports events. "We just…" Spencer hesitated, trying to think of an acceptable way to phrase it. "We ran into each other a couple times and he uh"— practically forced me to accept sexual favors in return for helping him cheat—"asked me out."

"Ah. And were you swept off your feet?"

"No"—I was forced on my knees and bent backwards over a bench a little shorter than this one—"I seem to be a bit too practical for that."

They talked for about another ten minutes, then Ethan looked Spencer dead in the eye and said, "I was going to wait for you to do this yourself, but I really don't see it happening. We both know it didn't go anything like what you're telling me. You never would have said yes if some stranger, even a student, just asked you out."

Spencer flushed and stuttered for a few seconds, but had to concede Ethan's point.

"So let's try again. Tell me about this guy."

"He really is in my grade. He is two years my senior. And we honestly don't have any classes together. We did socialize in the same circle, though." Spencer was proud to be at a point in his life that he could chuckle over the irony in that statement. "The problem was that this circle spent a decent portion of its time trying to make my life a living hell. They were quite successful."

"…Those idiots that you watch play football. That's his 'circle'?"

Spencer's crooked grin answered for itself.

"Then why the fuck are you hanging out with them?" Ethan shouted

"Well…"

It took Spencer half an hour, mostly due to Ethan's furious outbursts, to explain the nature of his relationship with Derek. Part way through, the boys finally gave into the cold and started the drive back to Spencer's house.

"WHAT!" Ethan shouted, slamming his foot on the breaks.

Spencer thought Ethan might be a bit upset about the origin of his relationship and the abrupt turnaround of the team's attitude. And make no mistake, he definitely was, but that wasn't why they were stopped in the middle of the road.

"Ethan, that was dangerous! What if you'd hit a patch of black ice? Or a car was behind us that you didn't notice?" Spencer worked at the seatbelt now locked tightly against him.

"It's not like I was going that fast in this little neighborhood," Ethan said, rolling his eyes. He took his foot off the break and pressed the gas pedal. "But that's not the point! You're letting him choke you without any limitations! I thought you were supposed to be a genius. Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"I've done my research," Spencer huffed, glaring at the dash board. "I trust Derek. If I started honestly struggling, he'd let me go."

"You really want to let it get to the point where you're actually struggling? Actually having the oxygen and blood flow to your brain cut off for so long that your body's needs override your trust in him?" Ethan asked softly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Well…No, but he's been very careful so far. We haven't gotten anywhere near that point."

Ethan pulled into Spencer's driveway and parked his car. Spencer continued staring sullenly out the window until a large hand gripped his chin tightly and forced him to turn.

"Has he been careful, or has he been lucky? Does he know how long you can last comfortably without any added stimulation? Do you know? Have you calculated what kind of difference being heady with lust would make? Heavy breathing? Increased blood flow to other regions of your body?"

Spencer felt the heat in his cheeks flare. It was rather humiliating to hear just how stupid he and Derek had been about this. Ethan was right, and he knew that Spencer knew it. He released his grip on Spencer and got out of the car. Spencer sat still in his seat, not sure he wanted to get out yet. But Ethan opened his door and he got out anyway.

His mother was in the middle of dinner when they walked in. His father was grading finals at the desk he had set up in the kitchen. His parents called that desk their marriage saver. Apparently, it could be very difficult for two college professors to find time to spend together. So when one of them was busy doing something in the kitchen (cooking, cleaning, repairing), the other sat at the desk and graded or made lesson plans. Spencer didn't question it. Married people were weird.

"Hello, Ethan, will you be joining us for dinner?" Mrs. Reid looked up from her chopping.

Ethan caught Spencer's eye and raised an eyebrow. Spencer nodded. He wasn't ready for his friend to leave yet. At the very least, he wanted a game of chess out of all of this.

So with a silent mutual agreement, they put the discussion aside for the night. With the same silence, it was understood that Ethan would be visiting tomorrow after football.

After dessert and several rounds of rapid-fire chess, Spencer sat alone in his bedroom. He stared at Derek's Sexual Autopsy and gave a frustrated sigh. He didn't even bother trying to tear a page out. What was the point? In the dark solitude of his bedroom, he was beginning to realize just how foolish his actions had been that afternoon. For all the effort he'd put into figuring out how to make his relationship with Derek more mature, he'd slid right into the stereotypical mold when faced with "betrayal." But Spencer was frankly too angry to care that much. He was teenager. He had the right to act like one, genius or not. And kissing Ethan had been… interesting. Not at all like kissing Derek—Turns out, constantly comparing the styles of two significant others is also selfish and juvenile—but enjoyable in a comforting way.

With a disheartened groan, he fell into bed. He'd sort it all out tomorrow.

… … … Flashback: Gideon's POV … … …

Nothing was more relaxing than a quiet Sunday stroll in the snow. He lived close enough to the back entrance of the park to walk. He breathed deeply, enjoying the feel of the crisp air in his lungs. He loved his job, but being surrounded by teenagers day in and day out was exhausting. The break was welcome. Alone, at las-

Not quite alone. How unus-Oh. Well, that's…I think this is definitely a personal moment.

Two young men were seated on the bench around the corner. Gideon could just see them through the bare branches. Had it been spring, he wouldn't have spotted them till he rounded the bend. Correction. One boy was seated. The other was now in his lap. Time to leave…

Wait. Is that Spencer Reid?

Gideon squinted and stepped closer. It was. He didn't recognize the other boy; all he could really see was dark hair. But that was definitely Spencer Reid and he definitely was not on top of Derek Morgan.

Gideon turned abruptly, not wanting to intrude anymore than he already had. Public displays of affection were none of his concern when they weren't on school grounds.

Exiting the park and crossing the street towards his house, Gideon pulled out his cell phone.

"Gideon, why are you calling me on break? I thought we agreed we wouldn't be hearing from one another until after New Year's."

"That would have been my preference, too. But I wanted to share some information with you about young Mr. Reid."

"Oh, you found something out in one of your chess matches?"

"No, only that he's been very touchy as of late. This I saw in person, and it may explain that touchiness. I don't think we understand this young man as well as we first believed…"

… … … End Flashback … … …


	20. Negative Multiplied by Negative Equals Positive  (So Two Wrongs Could Theoretically Make a Right)

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV … … …

"Derek, come here!" Cecilia shouted with that annoyingly squeaky voice. He hated this trip.

"What do you want?" He groaned, trudging out to the living room. "I was gonna take a nap." He turned the corner and had to pause. His brain was just a tad bit overwhelmed. Beside his unbearable cousin stood the most colorful girl he'd ever seen.

"Please ignore the rudeness, it's one of his many personality flaws. I'm told it can be endearing, if you plug your ears. Derek, this is Penelope Garcia. Penny, this is my cousin Derek."

The girl smiled brightly. "Oh my gosh! I can see why you wanted him, C'ilia. Before you figured out the relation and all."

Derek nodded absently, still trying to take in the outfit. Lime green and pink. Everything. Except the candy apple red lipstick.

Why do I know what shade that is?

And almost painfully blond hair. At least it suited her pale skin. She looked…bubbly.

"Wait, what? Do you have to tell everyone you meet about that?" Derek glared at Cecilia. She had the most obnoxious habit of sharing her entire life story with anyone who cared to listen. Or even if they didn't. He couldn't really complain too much. If he'd actually bothered to pay attention, he might have dodged their whole dating debacle.

"No worries, sweet cheeks. She only told me cause I was super curious about you!"

Sweet cheeks?

"Why…" Derek asked.

"'Cause I'm transferring to your school after Christmas! It'll be awesome. C'ilia told me you've got like tons of cute guys and a fairly suck-tastic football team-"

"How does that factor into 'awesome' exactly?"

This one is a little on the special side.

"Because general the level of assholery for jocks gets balanced out with the amount of suckishness." She said it like it was the most logical correlation ever.

She should talk to Reid. He'd set her straight on that.

"We're uh…getting better about that assholery bit."

"Excellent. Mild levels are acceptable."

What the hell?

"She's leaving on the 27th in the afternoon. A few hours after you guys," Cecilia put in. "Hey, weren't you going to stay until after New Year's? Why are you leaving so much earlier?"

"Uh-Some personal stuff came up and-"

Penelope squealed in excitement, "Oooo! What's her name?"

"No, I-"

"What!" Cecilia shouted. "You have a girlfriend finally?"

"That's not-"

"Don't you lie to me, Derek Morgan. I know the look of a man who's got someone waiting," Penelope scolded and gripped his arm. "So tell me all about her. Is she pretty?"

This girl is crazy.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer sat on his porch and watched the sun rise as he sipped his first cup of coffee. He didn't want to see the team today. He felt sick again. This time, though, it was guilt. Even if Derek was already… Spencer sighed and watched the fog of his breath mix with the steam rising from his cup.

Christmas Eve tomorrow. He needed to wrap presents still. Ethan's, too. Spencer took a sip and grimaced. Not enough sugar. He never ended up getting a present for Derek. But that didn't really matter, since he wasn't here.

Spencer gulped the rest of the hot liquid. Tasteless, now. He considered the connection between his mood and the sensory nerves in his tongue, but snorted softly to himself.

Ridiculous. I just burned the entire surface of my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Of course I can't taste anything.

He was finishing his fourth round of chess against himself when the doorbell rang. His parents looked up from their lesson plans, but Spencer waived them off.

"I'll get it. It's probably Ethan." Spencer scrambled up and hurried to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents staring at him strangely when he stopped to compose himself. He ignored them and opened the door calmly to smile at Ethan, stepping aside to let him in.

"Good morning, Mrs. Reid. Mr. Reid." Ethan nodded his head in greeting.

"Good morning, Ethan," Spencer's mother replied. His father had already returned to his textbooks and merely mumbled distractedly.

Spencer tilted his head towards his room and led the way through the kitchen and down the hall. He shifted awkwardly for a few moments while Ethan stood quietly with his hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat and glanced around.

"Chess?"

Ethan sighed. "Do you have a chess board in every room of the house?"

"My father gets me a different theme every year, so we actually have more than one in every room. I alternate which board is out every month rather than putting them all out on display, because I don't want people to think I'm a nerd." Spencer had never voiced the logic aloud to anyone before. Now that he had…

Ethan blinked and lifted his hand to cover his mouth. He failed to hide the crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"SHUT UP!" Spencer grabbed a pillow and smacked him repeatedly with it. Ethan pretended to grapple with him briefly, but Spencer knew he was only playing along. The older boy could easily overpower him, and eventually did. Spencer found himself tangled in long arms, Ethan towering over him.

I suppose this is the appropriate opportunity to initiate physical intimacy.

The guilt burned hot in his chest. But beyond that, he couldn't help but recognize the backslide in his thoughts. How long had it been since he'd phrased it so clinically. Spencer didn't want to "initiate physical intimacy" with Derek. He wanted to kiss him, taste him, be fucked by him. All the deliciously base things Derek taught him.

He pushed the thoughts aside. Derek wasn't here.

Ethan didn't seem surprised when Spencer's lips touched his, so he must have judged the moment correctly.

Excessive bodily contact does lend itself as a segue to intimate moments—Hush.

He traced Ethan's lips lightly with his tongue, deepening the kiss when they parted to allow him entrance.

Ethan took a step forward, forcing him back. Slowly, they backed towards the bed. Spencer couldn't help but notice that though Ethan was participating, he was still painfully calm and gentle with it.

Derek…

When Spencer's knees bumped the edge of his bed, warm hands gripped his hips and eased him down.

"Scoot back," Ethan murmured when Spencer looked up in confusion.

"Umm… I don't think I-"

"Not for that," Ethan chided, flicking Spencer's forehead. "I suspect you aren't going to keep it together long enough when this Derek guy gets back to learn your limits, so we're going to do it now. Scoot back."

Spencer frowned, mildly offended that Ethan didn't think he had any self-control. "I can time it myself, you know. And it's not like I can't… raise my own blood pressure."

Ethan chuckled. "It's cute that you'll practically dry hump in a public park, but you don't want to say 'masturbate.' I'm well aware of your ability to tell time, Spencer. But holding a hand to your own throat and counting seconds is not the same as letting someone else wrap their fingers around your throat and squeeze until they decide to let go. Also, for you, I think it's not the simple act of strangulation that gets to you. It's the dominance behind the action. The submission and trust you're giving to your partner. Have you ever tried just choking yourself? To see if that's all it takes?"

Spencer shook his head and clutched at his comforter.

"Do it."

Spencer glanced up sharply. "Now?"

"Yeah, now. I told you to try it before you're aroused to give yourself a baseline. So scoot back and lie down. You're the genius here, you know that makes a difference." Ethan sat down beside him on the bed and pushed him backward slightly.

I didn't mean for this to be an informational session. I wanted… Okay, I didn't want… But… AGH!

Spencer gave up and scooted back on his bed. He felt uncomfortable lying flat on his back with Ethan just sitting beside him.

"Spencer…"

"Okay, okay." Spencer reached up with both hands to-

"Does he use both hands or just one?" Ethan's question made him pause.

"One. But his grip is much stronger than mine, so a combined force would give a more accurate estimate." Spencer was rather amazed he could still be so scientific about this. He'd begun to think Derek had ruined that side of him permanently.

"Hmm. That's acceptable. Continue." Ethan glanced at his watch.

Spencer wrapped his fingers around his throat and searched for what felt like the appropriate pressure. He found it after a few tries and nodded at Ethan.

The first thing he noticed was that it wasn't even remotely arousing. The second was that his hands were cold. Derek's hands always felt so warm against his skin, . The third: rather than lost air supply, what he was feeling most was the pressure of blood being blocked by his hold. And he only lasted fourteen seconds before that became astoundingly uncomfortable. His hands fell away.

"Fourteen seconds," Ethan commented. "How does that compare with your standard?"

"Not well. But it's not…the same." Spencer stared at his hands, contemplating just how different his hands were from Derek's.

Why is this so different?

"How so?" Ethan slid closer, tucking one leg to his chest and resting his chin on his knee.

"I think it's because his hands are broader and his grip is directly against my windpipe, while mine puts heavier pressure on my arteries."

Ethan rolled his eyes. He shifted on to his knees and leaned over Spencer.

"Your general emotional stupidity astounds me sometimes. I won't deny that where the pressure is makes a big difference in sensation, but do you honestly think that's it?"

Spencer shrugged. "I-I don't know. I've never experienced any of this with another person before…"

"Move your hands, then."

Spencer's eyes widened, but he stretched his arms back out by his sides. He could feel his body shaking slightly as he watched Ethan's hand reach for his throat.

"Here?" Ethan's hand stopped, poised just below Spencer's chin.

"Y-yeah." Spencer closed his eyes.

Derek…

"Open 'em. You can't go off imagining Derek. I need you present," Ethan chided.

Spencer blushed hotly and lifted his eyes to Ethan's face. He couldn't even deny it.

"Good. Now try to think only about me." Ethan held his watch in one hand and pressed the other against Spencer's throat.

This could certainly be worse. I was right that the angle and placement of pressure make a big difference. Derek's hands are still broader. Warmer. Still better than when I did it myself. Except this isn't arousing, either… And his hand is crushing my windpipe. Ethan, I can't breathe. Calm down, I've lasted at least twenty seconds longer than this with Derek. I can't breathe. I have at least a full minute, at most two, before this becomes a problem. But I can't breathe. And he's not even looking at me, he's looking at his watch. He's in the way of my legs. I want to struggle. I never want to struggle with Derek. I can't breathe. We didn't talk about an indicator for me to give him. Derek, I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't brea-

Spencer was on the verge of a full on panic attack when long arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him upright.

"Breathe, Spencer! I already let go!" Ethan gave him a light, sharp slap.

He gasped and sucked in several lungfuls of air before allowing Ethan's murmurs to soothe him.

"Twenty-one seconds. I think we need to call it quits for the day, if it makes you this frightene-"

"No! Derek'll be home soon and I still won't-I want to see if…being excited makes a difference with someone other than him."

If Derek were here, he wouldn't let me get away with not saying "hard."

Ethan ran a hand over his face. "Seriously, I don't think I'm the best person for that."

That was not a no.

Spencer frowned a bit. Ethan hadn't let him go yet. So… He turned his head and pressed open mouthed kisses up Ethan's neck until he reached his ear.

"Spencer…"

"Please," he breathed softly, letting his lips brush across Ethan's ear.

"Kid, this isn't-"

Spencer turned his body so he was straddling Ethan. It worked last time. "Please, Ethan?"

Derek would make me be more descriptive.

"Fuck, what happened to the innocent little eight year-old I used to know?" Ethan gritted out.

Derek happened.

He bit down softly on the shell of Ethan's ear. He heard the older boy grunt quietly and the hands on his waist tightened, pulling him back. Warm lips pressed to his, parting them easily. Spencer sighed into the kiss. It wasn't so disappointing this time, since he wasn't expecting a kiss like Derek's. It was almost…relaxing. He twined his tongue around Ethan's and deepened the kiss until he found himself on his back with Ethan holding him down.

Not like Derek would, though. I could get away from this with hardly any effort.

Just the thought of Derek now was enough to stir his body. Problematic since part of the goal in this was to see if someone else could arouse him. He needed to focus on Ethan. Spencer dug his nails into Ethan's shoulders, earning a soft gasp and a shudder, but no retaliation.

Wha-Oh. This may complicate things.

He sank his teeth into Ethan's lip, wanting a little more confirmation. The low moan and bucking hips sealed it.

Not going to work. He likes pain, too. So why-

Spencer jerked in surprise when a hand clasped his throat.

"It's rude to ignore your partner, Spencer," Ethan murmured against his lips. He kissed Spencer slowly, and ground their hips together.

He would have whimpered, if he had the air available.

"I'm going to guess you realized that we have similar tastes." Ethan was nipping his way down Spencer's throat. "How do you think I understand so much of your side of this?"

Oh…

Spencer could honestly say he hadn't thought about that at all. He was actually starting to have a hard time thinking. His mind was going to that pleasant numb place again.

Ethan bit down hard on the ridge of his collar bone and sucked, making Spencer squirm and arch against him. But he needed to pay attention. He was supposed to be tracking when the lack of air became uncomfortable. And it was definitely getting there. The edges of his vision were getting fuzzy and Ethan was saying something he couldn't understand.

Now. This is when it stops being enjoyable.

Spencer tugged frantically at Ethan's shirt, worried a struggle wouldn't be understood. But Ethan let go of both his throat and the skin between his teeth. He chuckled softly.

"Calm down, I got it." Ethan smirked.

Doesn't look like Derek's smirk.

The mental image brought his attention to the throbbing need in his groin.

Crap… No wait! This is at least partially due to Ethan. So it isn't just Derek. Time for that later. Focus. Grandma in her underwear, Grandma in her underwear. Ugh, that's so unpleasant.

"By the way, that was fifty-four seconds. Safe to say you're more at ease when you're turned on," Ethan noted. He must have had his own trick, because Spencer couldn't see any uh…indication of their activities.

"Yeah," Spencer ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Hey, Ethan, why did you agree to this if your… interests are more similar to mine?"

Ethan shrugged. "Partly for hands-on teaching. You're too stubborn to just listen and accept unwanted advice. And it's not like we're starting a relationship here. I have to leave on the 26th, and I don't do long distances. We're just having some fun."

"Oh…" Spencer frowned in contemplation.

Distance… I hadn't even thought about that. If Derek and I last through high school, what are we going to do after it?

"Umm, you weren't serious about this, were you? You're head over heels for this Derek guy!" Ethan paled and leaned back, trying to put space between himself and Spencer.

"No, no!" Spencer laughed and waived the concern off with one hand. "I was just-"

"When did you say Derek was coming back?" Ethan cut him off, eyes wide.

"What? I don't actually know. We start school again on January 3rd, so he has to be back in at least a week. Why?"

"Umm… Well, if it's any earlier than that and you still want him to be your not-a-boyfriend when he gets back, you might want to wear a turtle neck for a while," Ethan muttered sheepishly.

Spencer stared at him for a few seconds then ran to the mirror. He tugged his collar out of the way, revealing a prominent bruise on his collar bone.

Shit! No, wait. This is good. It'll show him he's not the only one with other interests.

"No, he needs to know I'm not going to agree to sharing him if he can't allow me the same freedom," Spencer said, voicing his thoughts aloud.

Even if I don't want it.

"Spencer, as much as I already dislike this guy, I don't think you're giving him enough credit. He has an entire pack of guard dogs watching out for you. Either he's even more of a possessive ass than you make him sound like, or he's taking this pretty damn seriously."

Spencer glared at him through the mirror. "I really wish you wouldn't call him that and he's not taking it seriously. He doesn't have to, we never made it anything official."

"You're joking right? Make up your damned mind already!" Ethan shouted. "You obviously want it to be, so why waste your time whining about it? Just tell him."

"You don't understand. It-It's not that simple!"

"Well, it's not that complicated either!"

Spencer refused to say another word on it and after ten minutes of one-sided arguing, Ethan stomped out in exasperation. He politely excused himself to Spencer's parents and rolled his eyes when Spencer said nothing.

"Son, you need to eat," Spencer's father said over dinner. Spencer silently pushed the food back to the other side of his plate.

His mother walked by and put a hand on her husband's shoulder and shook her head. He sighed. "I hope you've got your appetite back by tomorrow. I'll have to eat your share."

Spencer dropped his fork on his plate. "May I be excused?"

"Sure, honey. There'll be leftovers in the fridge if you do end up getting hungry."

"Thank you," Spencer mumbled.

He flicked chess pieces across the board in his room until he lost feeling in his feet from sitting cross-legged. He flopped backward on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Derek's going to be home after this break and we'll have to talk about this. I don't know if I can talk about this. I just-

"Spencer, Derek's on the phone!"

"Of course he is. Who else would call right now? Got it!" Spencer grabbed the phone in the hall. "Hi, Derek…"

"Hey, kid. What are you doing on the 27th?"

"Umm… Nothing?"

"It's not a trick question. My plane is scheduled to land at 5pm. You're coming over."

Spencer stared at the hickey on his collar bone that had seemingly tripled in size.

That's impossible. It may very well have gotten darker, but the increase in size is due to the import your placing on it. Like that pimple every girl in that magazine named after the alcoholic beverage swears is the size of Everest.

"T-that's great! I can't wait to see you! I-I'm sorry, though. I don't have your present yet. I couldn't think of anything to get you." His apology was met with a moment of silence and then a choked laugh.

"I'm going to do you a favor and pretend you're trying to be funny. See you soon."

"Yeah…" Spencer barely noticed the dial tone in his ear. He was calculating the likelihood that Derek would let him keep his shirt on for the next week. It was very low.

… … … Flashback: Penelope's POV … … …

I knew it. All the good ones are either taken or gay. And this one is both.

"And you haven't told him that Cecilia's your cousin yet?" Penelope could hardly believe how dense this very handsome skull was.

"No. I mean I was going to tonight, but he didn't ask and he didn't seem that upset anymore. And Hotch hasn't called me frantically reporting Ethan-encounters," Derek replied.

"So? That doesn't mean it's not getting under his skin! Right now, he doesn't know that you two have a monogamous committed relationship. And you're a natural flirt from what I can tell. If I were in his shoes, I'd be looking for some way to rub your skirt-chasing ways in your face," Penelope cautioned.

"Reid trusts me. There's no way he thinks I'm fooling around. Besides, he's way too mature to go the 'eye for an eye' route." Derek looked up from the present label he was signing.

"You call your boyfriend by his last name? That would make anybody insecure, handsome. And don't confuse extreme intelligence with maturity. More often than not, it turns into a handicap." Penelope signed her last card with a flourish and giggled as the fuzzy green feathered creature on the end of her pen danced.

"I call almost everybody by their last name. Habit from football."

So you treat him like your teammates? Jesus Christ.

"I'd better not ever hear you call me 'Garcia'." Penelope glared over the rim of her old-fashioned glasses.

Derek laughed and passed her the popcorn bowl. "How about 'Baby Girl' then?"

Searching for the most buttered piece, Penelope considered this for a moment. "I've been called worse," she said with a smile.

… … … End Flashback … … …


	21. Missing the Obvious

… … … Flashback: Derek's POV… … …

"Okay, you'll need one of these and one of these… Oh and two of that style. Gotta see which color suits you better." Penelope tossed three more polo's into the cart.

"Baby Girl, are you sure this necessary?" Derek had only mentioned that he wasn't sure his attire suited Spencer when they stood together. He certainly didn't plan on pulling on a sweater vest and slacks anytime soon, but at the very least he could look less like a bum.

"This isn't just about high school, Derek. You need to figure out a style for your future. College. Employment. Getting your boy out of his pants is just an added bonus. Besides, do you want him to smile when he sees you, or do you want him to pop a tent?"

Derek was glad he was too dark for his blush to show.

… … … End Flashback… … …

Spencer winced as his bedroom door creaked open. That really needed some WD40.

"Merry Christmas!" Spencer's mother called brightly from the kitchen.

Christmas. When had that happened? Where had Christmas Eve gone? Spencer vaguely recollected a day of snow shoveling, puzzles, lesson plans, chess matches, and present wrapping. All to the background noise of Christmas carols. A box on his doorstep from Ethan, labeled "Don't Open 'Til X-Mas." Apparently, Spencer wouldn't be seeing his old friend again before he left.

The hickey on his collar bone, now a pale shade of eggplant, ached deliciously. Maybe not seeing him was a good thing. He hoped the flickers of warm pain were worth it in the long run. For all his bravado with Ethan, Spencer was terrified. Derek wasn't going to be happy. Based on that phone-uh-call, he didn't like Ethan. At all.

Spencer smiled as cheerfully as he could fake. "Merry Christmas, Mom!"

"Sit, sit! You know the rules," his mother said waving toward the table.

"Lick it up, you know the rules…" Derek's voice was hot in his ear.

Spencer's muscles tightened and he breathed out slowly.

Not the rules she's referring to, Spencer.

"Breakfast before presents. Yes, I know." Spencer opened the cupboard and pulled out the plates. He'd take what was coming to him for his fling with Ethan. He needed Derek back. That damned notebook sat on his desk. He'd read it before he fell asleep last night, like some kind of twisted bedtime story.

"That means you, too, mister," Spencer's mother hollered at his father, who froze, caught in the act of shaking one of the colorfully wrapped boxes.

"But, Diana…" his father whined.

"Get in here and eat with your family, William Reid!"

Spencer's father winked at him, slipping by to grab the tray of cinnamon rolls from the counter and set them in the center of the table. "Yes, ma'am."

If this is what a mature relationship looks like, I could probably keep the notebook and be just fine.

An espresso machine (with the promise that he would only drink one cup a day), a comprehensive set of Leo Tolstoy's work with referenced discussions (in Russian, of course), a cell phone (apparently, having friends and going out merited special privileges), and a chess set. The pieces were hand-carved wooden camels. Spencer stared at the King for a solid hour and a half trying to figure out how exactly the woodworker had contorted the camel to have the little prongs on top. It wasn't wearing a hat that he could see… He'd given up and read the instructions to his new espresso maker in all three provided languages. There were several inconsistencies in the translations. The cell phone had been another challenge entirely; electronics were not his forte. But it was now turned on and activated. He'd picked the least annoying ringtone. Trying to get to the contacts was a trial, as well. He thought starting with the English version of the instructions would help; he was wrong. There were more inconsistencies than words in that manual. And he wasn't even going to start on the grammatical errors.

He hadn't opened Ethan's gift yet. After setting up the new chess board in the living room and tucking the last one away in the cabinet with three of its companions, Spencer carried the flat package into his bedroom. He didn't want to risk opening it in front of his parents. He sat down on the corner of his bed and fiddled with the present.

Flexible. A book. But a slender one. A manual perhaps? No. Hardback… A book of poetry? Curved edges, though. A notebook? Why would he give me a notebook?

Spencer gave up the guessing games and ripped the paper off. It was a notebook. A simple composition notebook. There had to be more to it than that. He shook the book upside down and searched the shredded wrapping paper for a note or a card, but there was nothing.

Well, of course not. He gave me a notebook. Why would he write a card when he gave me a book of paper?

Spencer flipped through the pages, scanning them for a note. On the back of the last page (in terrible handwriting) was the message he'd been looking for:

Merry Christmas, Spencer. I noticed something while I was in your room the other day. You went to the restroom and I took the opportunity to be nosey. That notebook on your desk? You're focusing on the wrong subject. I'm going to guess. based the page that was torn out and so carefully taped back in, that you already know that. So I bought you a new one. You know, one of the most important things for a submissive partner to remember is that it's not always about meeting the needs of the dominant. You have to find someone who meets your needs too. And in order to do that, you need to know what they are. Do you? Where's your favorite place to go on a date? Derek's house? What's your favorite thing to do with someone who can't play chess? Give him head? What do you know about yourself besides what you like doing with Derek? What happens if it's not Derek one day? Are you gonna make a new notebook for every guy?

Take it from me, that's the fastest way to starve a relationship. If you can't tell him what you want, he's never going to know how to give it to you. I want you to take this notebook and turn it into an autopsy of yourself. I don't care if it's emotional, mental, or sexual. You need to take some time and focus on you. The only thing you know for sure about yourself right now, is that you want a monogamous relationship and you want it with Derek. So tell him. But you clearly have a few trust issues with him, so you can't just say that and expect him to get it right. You have to explain what he can do to make you believe him, otherwise he's gonna fuck up. It's what guys do. Including you. Good luck explaining that hickey to him. Maybe you'll get lucky and it'll fade entirely before then.

Ethan

Spencer fell asleep mulling over Ethan's words.

The next day was general holiday clean up and weak distraction attempts. He swapped out all the chess boards in the house, but ended up spending most of the day online with the_hero70. More often than not these days their topic of conversation ended up straying far into personal territory. Spencer wondered when that had happened. He still hadn't won a match, either.

The 27th. Derek was back. He'd left a voicemail while Spencer was out for a walk. His mother had called him on the blasted cellular contraption he was still trying to figure out. He hung up on her twice before managing to answer.

Spencer stood in front of Derek's house sweating and praying the burning in his cheeks wasn't as bright as it felt. He felt sick again. He was probably breaking out in hives. But he'd seen the curtains of Derek's room shift. He probably already knew Spencer was here. His numb legs carried him up the steps to Derek's front door. Quick double check that the three shirts underneath his jacket hid the slowly fading bruise at the base of his neck.

It was completely illogical, but somehow he almost had himself convinced that Derek was going to take one look at him and realize… Something. That he'd gotten too fat. He'd probably gained at least a pound from holiday food.

Actually, with all the vomiting I did, I probably lost weight.

That was it. He'd be too skinny. He'd be bony and pale and ugly and Derek wasn't going to want him and-

And you're knocking anyway. Idiot. Didn't you see how dark those circles were this morning? Hideous. He could do so much better than you. And he did. I bet she's beau-

Spencer's throat was closing up. Derek was going to open this stupid door and he was going to be a sobbing mess.

Breathe. Shit, breathe. Being red and splotchy certainly isn't going to help anything.

Spencer struggled to breathe properly. Too late now. The door was opening. Mrs. Morgan, with the strangest smile on her face. Like she was trying not to laugh.

See? Even Mrs. Morgan thinks you look so hideous it's amusing.

Spencer had absolutely no idea where these ideas were coming from, but he was doing a good job convincing himself they were true.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Morgan! I-uh-Derek invited me. I thought-I mean, is now not a good time? I can come back later…"

Liar. If you leave now, you won't come back. You won't see him until school starts and then you'll avoid him like the plague. Is homeschooling still an option? Coward.

"No, sweetie, he's here. He's um," she tried to hide a laugh with a cough, "indisposed. He wants me to entertain you for a little while before he comes downstairs. Would you like some coffee?"

See? He's putting it off as long as possible. He doesn't even want-Is that blueberry coffee? They have more? Derek said that other bag was a fluke…

"Coffee sounds wonderful," Spencer smiled shakily. At least something had been able to distract him from his thoughts. The circle of internal insults was one of the fastest downward spirals he could start. Last time, it really had ended with him being homeschooled.

Spencer inhaled the scent of blueberry mixed with the bitter aroma of coffee beans, a thick tint of sweetness beneath it. His insides steadied a bit. He took a tiny sip and placed the mug back on the table, not wanting to risk the precious beverage with the tremors in his hands. A quite chuckle brought his gaze back to Derek's mother. A soft smile tilted her lips.

"Spencer, is blueberry coffee your favorite?"

He blushed brightly.

A little too obvious, hm?

"Yes, ma'am."

Her lips stretched into a grin and she rose, pouring herself another cup. "Well, now it makes a lot more sense."

"What does?"

Mrs. Morgan reached up and opened the cabinet that held their coffee. There had to be at least twelve bags of New England Blueberry Blend. "When Derek saw these in the store at his aunt's, he bought every single one."

And there again, he obviously…um-clearly…What?

"I don't understand…" Spencer ran a hand through his hair roughly, catching his fingers in a tangle at the end. "Why would he-I thought-It doesn't make sense at all!"

She sighed. "That boy of mine hasn't explained a single thing to you, has he? Spencer, go upstairs. You two need to stop beating around the bush. Go on," she shooed him out the door towards the stairs when he hesitated. "Your coffee'll still be here."

Spencer bit his lip and climbed the stairs. There had to be a logical reason why Derek wanted him to wait downstairs, but his mother clearly wasn't too concerned about it. At the top of the stairs he heard drawers slamming, and quiet muttering. The door to Derek's room was ajar, so Spencer pushed it open slowly, not wanting to startle the older boy.

The room was a wreck. A damp towel dangled off the back of Derek's desk chair. There were clothes everywhere. Jeans were strewn about, shirts Spencer had never seen before lay crumpled on the bed. Drawers jutted out halfway. A few items looked as though they'd been set up as haphazard outfits. Derek stood shirtless in the middle of his room, clutching three shirts that still had tags hanging off the sleeves. He was facing the window, so Spencer couldn't see his expression, but it wasn't hard to see he was incredibly distressed over something. For one thing, he'd never seen Derek's room in this kind of state.

Muscles bunched under darkened skin as Derek tossed the shirts on the floor to join the rest with a groan. Spencer's jaw clenched. It had been so long… He wanted to bite the bundle of tendons again, but Derek apparently hadn't heard the door open and he probably wouldn't respond well to that kind of greeting. Derek snatched up another shirt and held it up for inspection.

Was he really making me wait downstairs while he… What exactly is he doing? Sorting out his wardrobe? Is the thought of my company so detestable that he would rather sort laundry?

This shirt joined its fellows on the floor, as well. Spencer shook his head. This whole process was obviously upsetting Derek and it needed to stop.

"Derek-"

The boy in question jumped nearly half a foot in the air. He spun around and attempted to hide the polo in his hand behind his back.

"What the hell, Sp-Reid! You were supposed to wait downstairs!" Derek frantically kicked the clothing piled around his feet over between the bed and wall where Spencer couldn't see it. "I was gonna be down in a minute…"

What is the matter with him…

Spencer would have spent more time thinking about that, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It hadn't even been a full month and it still felt like a punch to his gut to see Derek's face again. To hear his voice paired with moving lips. Full lips. Spencer desperately needed to feel those lips against his once more. But if he kissed Derek now, while he was only partly undressed, there would be no hope of hiding the bite on his neck. Even if it had faded a decent amount, it still couldn't be confused with anything else. Especially not by someone who had plenty of experience with them.

"Derek, what are you doing?" Spencer reached out and picked up one of the shirts on the bed that still had a tag. Not a polo this time, but a rather nice long-sleeve. Spencer couldn't identify the fabric, but it was soft between his fingers.

Derek typically wears t-shirts, or long-sleeves in t-shirt material. Why did he get all of these new clothes? And in so many colors, too. They'd look wonderful on him, but he usually ends up in blacks or grays.

The new shirts were all variations of blues, greens, and reds. It looked like a girl had picked them out. The one in his hand was a dusky blue.

The girl. She picked them all out.

"I was just getting dressed, that's all," Derek mumbled, plucking the shirt from Spencer's slackened fingers. "Do you-uh-like this one?"

Spencer tried to catch his eyes, but Derek refused to look up. "Yeah. That's a good color for you," he whispered, turning away. "I'll be downstairs."

"Pret-"

He shut the door before Derek could finish. He didn't really want to hear anymore.

They went shopping together. How quaint.

Spencer slumped down at the table and stared at the coffee despondently. Mrs. Morgan came around the corner seconds later, carrying a basket of clean sheets.

"Oh! I wasn't expecting to see you for- Spencer, honey, what's wrong?"

"She has good taste," Spencer replied, twirling the spoon in his cup.

"What?"

"Derek's girlfriend," he clarified. "She has good taste."

"That stupid boy!" She snapped, dropping the basket into a chair. "He only made it worse! Spencer, listen, he's not-"

"Reid, I was trying to talk to you!" Derek stomped down the steps in the blue shirt Spencer had picked out. "Look-"

Derek paused at a sudden chorus of laughter coming from the front porch. The door flew open and herd of boys charged in, Adam and Travis leading the way. A brightly dressed blonde girl followed after them, giggling while they dragged her in.

"Morgan, we found your girlfriend in the driveway," Adam announced cheerfully, draping an arm over her shoulders as she laughed and pushed him.

"Baby Girl, I thought you wouldn't be in 'til later," Derek said, pleasant surprise evident in his tone.

"Baby Girl"… He brought her back with him! And that-She-I can't-

"Oh, I was right! That's a great color for you!"

How could he-

"Ooooh! 'Baby Girl'?" Travis cackled "Reid, you might have some competition."

The rest of the team cracked up, drowning out the girl's protests.

"Shut up, Travis!" Derek glared at the group. "Hotch, control them!"

"For the last time, they aren't my-Oof!"

Spencer slammed into Aaron's side, nearly knocking him over in his desperation to get out of the house. The tears blinding him didn't make it any easier.

"Reid, where are you going?"

"You don't have to leave."

"Whoa, kid, are you crying?"

"Pretty Boy, what's wrong?"

Spencer swallowed sobs and struggled against the hands pulling him back from the door. His felt the zipper of his jacket slip after a hard tug to his sleeve, but ignored it.

"Kid, it wasn't-"

"Wow, Morgan, don't waste any time do you?" Rob commented blandly, his eyes locked on Spencer's neck. "Miss him that much?"

"What?" Derek paused in the act of reaching for Spencer, letting his gaze shift to see what Rob was referring to. "What are you-"

Rob's eyes widened. Silence settled in the hallway. Aaron edged around Spencer slowly, carefully making himself a barrier between the two boys. Mrs. Morgan slipped quietly out the back door, apparently deciding this was not something she needed to be involved in.

Oh no…

Spencer was yanked forward as the perky blond girl gripped his zipper and pulled up sharply. "Nothing there. Just a trick of the light. You must be Spencer, Derek's told me so much about you. My name's Penelope Garcia. There seems to have been a-"

Why is she helping?

"Penelope, Hotch, get out of the way," Derek growled.

Penelope gave him an apologetic look and took a few steps back. Aaron stood firm. "Morgan, you need to-"

"Move!" Derek reached around Aaron and grabbed Spencer's arm.

That was the last straw for Spencer. He turned to face Derek, jerking his arm away and scrubbing viciously at his tears. "You have no right to be angry! You're the one who spent almost the entire break having sex with your old girlfriend," he pointed accusingly at Penelope, "then you brought her all the way back here! To parade her in front of me like I'm some kind of mistress! Even wearing the clothes she picked out for you! And now you have the audacity to be angry with ME?" Spencer was screaming through tears by the end of his tirade.

Derek's hands hung limply at his sides. He denied nothing, just stood there slack-jawed.

I knew it. I can't believe I let this happen.

"Morgan, you idiot, you never told him a goddamned thing, did you?" Aaron sighed. He opened the front door and held it. "Everybody out. The lovebirds have a long night ahead of them." They trickled out slowly, Penelope bringing up the rear. She looked absolutely horrified.

And she should be! That-that harlot!

"If you don't get it right this time, Morgan, don't expect any field time this week. You'll be running laps until your toenails fall off, understood?"

Derek nodded dumbly. The slam of the front door pulled him from his stupor. He lifted a hand to wipe Spencer's tears.

"What is it that everyone keeps saying you need to explain?" Spencer mumbled, flinching away from the touch.

Why didn't you leave with the others? He doesn't deserve a chance to fix this. I'm so stupid.

But as much as Spencer wanted to turn and walk out, he wanted Derek more.

Derek grabbed his elbow and tugged him forward. "Don't pull away from me, Pretty Boy," his words were gentle, but the grip on Spencer's arm was painfully tight.

Spencer shuddered at the breath rushing over his ear. He hid his face in Derek's shoulder.

"The girl they were talking about over lunch before break was my cousin. Her name is Cecilia. Long story short, we almost dated because of a bit of a mix up. The girl you practically chased out is Penelope. She just moved here from my hometown in Chicago. Cecilia introduced us over break so she would know someone when she got here. There's nothing between us. You hurt her feelings, by the way, even though she's already decided she likes you a lot." Derek's tone hadn't changed at all, but his free hand had slid up into Spencer's hair wrapping the strands tightly in his fist. He pulled Spencer's head back and released the grip on his arm, tugging the zipper of his jacket down. "You'll have to apologize to her for that. But first, you'll be apologizing to me. What's it going to take for you to trust me, hm? I am sorry I made you doubt me. But I thought you understood our relationship a little better than that." He pressed a gentle kiss to Spencer's parted lips and ran his thumb over the bruise Ethan had left. "Am I going to have to worry that every time we fight you'll be letting some other guy touch you? Mark you? Kiss you? Fuck you? Is this the only mark he left on you? Did you let him go all the way just to prove a point to me?"

Spencer whimpered softly as the fist holding his hair twisted slowly. If Derek didn't let up soon, he was going to cum in his pants. It had been too long since the last time Derek had touched him. Tortured him.

"Answer me, Reid!" Derek snarled, yanking the hair in his grasp sharply.

"No, no, no, no… To all of it, no. Just you. I only want you. I swear-Ngh!" He mewled when Derek started back towards the stairs, dragging Spencer by his hair.

"I don't know if I can trust that again. You swore you wouldn't let him touch you anymore, too. You lied, Pretty Boy. What should I do about that, hm?"

"I-I don't know-Ah!" Derek wrenched his hair once more, forcing him to stumble up the stairs.

"I think I do. I should tell you, though, you succeeded. You made your point. I can't assume you understand me. That was my mistake, and I won't let it happen again. There will be no more confusion about the boundaries of this relationship." Derek shoved Spencer towards the bedroom once they'd reached the top of the stairs. "Strip and get on the bed."

Spencer didn't even bother to argue. He'd missed this more than anything else, the proof that Derek wanted him. He stumbled to the bedroom, dropping layers as he went. He was down to jeans and socks by the time he crawled on the bed, pushing the clothes still littering the bed spread onto the floor. He fumbled briefly with his slacks before managing to deposit them on the floor with everything else.

"No boxers, good boy," Derek murmured. He caught Spencer's neck and held him still for a brutal kiss that left the younger boy panting. "Face the mirror. Hands and knees." Derek climbed onto the bed behind him. Derek's clothing rustled and Spencer watched him pull the belt from his jeans in the mirror.

"D-Derek, wait…"

"Hush, baby. You might want to get a better grip on the blanket," Derek cautioned, running his hand lightly over Spencer's bare ass. Spencer moaned softly as the stroking continued, his grip on the blanket slowly relaxing. The first blow to his sensitized flesh nearly sent him off the bed.

"Aaa!" Spencer shot forward. In all honesty, it hadn't been that hard of a hit, but the belt was leather and Derek had lulled him into complacency. Probably on purpose. He could see Derek in the mirror on his knees. His expression was neutral, body language casual. He wasn't angry, just trying to make his own point.

"Get your ass back here, Pretty Boy." A simple order, no impatience. He knew Spencer would do as he was told, and he was right.

Spencer crawled back into place, trembling. His arousal hadn't flagged in the least. The slightest direct stimulation now would send him over the edge. This time the belt striking his skin wasn't a surprise, he watched through the mirror as Derek raised his arm and brought the folded leather down. Even though the belt barely brushed him, the sting still brought a cry to his lips.

"Shhh, baby. Just three more." He gasped softly when Derek's lips touched heated stripes on his backside.

"Derek, please-Aaah!"

"Two more."

"Ngh!" Spencer buried his face in the blanket for the fourth strike. If Derek hit him again, he was going to cum. How pathetic was that? Not even a single touch…

"Don't hide your face; I want to see your expressions." Spencer felt the delicate tickle of fingertips running over his aching skin. He lifted his head just in time to watch the belt come down for the final smack.

"Aaaah!" The pain pushed his orgasm higher in its spiral, spilling his fluids all over the blanket beneath him. His arms buckled, but strong hands on his shoulders pulled him upright.

"No, no, Reid. You're not done yet." Derek guided his hands to the button of his jeans.

Spencer hurriedly tugged the material open and swirled his tongue around the tip of Derek's swollen arousal.

This is because of me. This is because he wants me. Just me.

He sucked greedily at the hot flesh, clutching at Derek's hips when he tried to pull back.

"Fuck, Reid, if you keep this up I'm not gonna last," Derek groaned, dragging nails up Spencer's back.

This only spurred Spencer on. Derek was right again; his stamina was pitiful compared to their usual trysts. But Spencer didn't mind. It allowed him to swallow the fruits of his labor that much sooner. Derek dragged Spencer up to cradle him tightly when they were both able to breathe evenly again. He glared at the mark on Spencer's collar bone.

"Why did you let him do that?" Derek bit out.

"Um… It was actually for instructional purposes," Spencer answer, sheepishly twisting his fingers.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, you'll have to explain that for me."

"Well…The choking thing is actually pretty dangerous and Ethan was helping me figure out a rough baseline for how long I have before I need to make sure you let me go…"

"And to do that, he had to give you a hickey?"

"No… He actually did that because he got frustrated… I was ignoring him." Spencer cleared his throat and pretended to look for his pants.

"How did you manage that?"

"I was uh-trying to imagine how you would be doing it."

When Derek's teeth clamped down over the fading bruise, Spencer didn't have to imagine it anymore.


	22. L is For...

… … … Flashback: Mrs. Morgan's POV… … …

Mrs. Morgan hid her smile behind a stack of folded shirts on the table. She was discretely watching her son frantically load the rest of the bags of Blueberry Cobbler coffee into the cabinet. She still couldn't figure out why he'd been so excited to see the blend at the grocery store, particularly since he had yet to develop a taste for any kind of coffee. But he'd been acting strangely the whole trip... She was fairly certain that he had a fight of some sort with Spencer. For the one long conversation the two boys had over the whole break, Derek had slammed the door to his bedroom in the hotel shut and later she could have sworn he was banging on the wall. But the next day he seemed very pleased with himself, so she figured they'd worked it . Morgan couldn't have been more proud of Derek for being able to verbally work through relationship issues with Spencer. It was a strong sign to her that he was maturing well.

That wasn't the only odd behavior he'd exhibited, though. Shortly after meeting that sweet young lady, Penelope, he'd gone out shopping with her with some of his Christmas money and bought a slew of clothes that, though they looked wonderful on him, simply weren't his style..

"Ma, how do you set up this coffee maker? I want to- Oh my God! Ma!" Derek yelped.

Mrs. Morgan flinched.

"I'm right here, Derek. There's no need to shout." She schooled the smile into one of tired exasperation. The boy always got so upset when he thought she was laughing at him. One of the symptoms of his age.

Derek turned to her in a panic. "There's something wrong with the clocks! Did the power go out? How are they all fast?"

"What are you talking about, honey? They're right. Our flight was just a little late. Actually, with that snow storm coming in, we're lucky that we left today at all."

"But I still have to shower and get ready!"

That's right. Spencer's supposed to visit him today. But that's not for…

"Derek, you still have an hour. It's not like you have to blow dry your hair or put on make-up…" she trailed off. Derek had already run up the stairs. She heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on immediately after. "Maybe he's on his.-What did Cecilia call a man period? Oh, yes. His colon. That would certainly explain a lot," Mrs. Morgan murmured softly to herself. She gathered up the shirts and carried them back into her bedroom.

She settled down to enjoy the book her sister had gotten her for Christmas, just a light-hearted (read: smutty) romance novel. Sometimes a woman just needed to relax her mind. Mrs. Morgan relaxed for a good three or four chapters before she realized Derek still hadn't left the bathroom. She sat up, mildly concerned now.

What is that boy- Nope, there he is.

The bathroom door opened with a bang and she heard him run into his room, tracking his heavy footsteps.. He was in such a rush…

Mrs. Morgan glanced at the clock on the wall. Derek still had thirty minutes before six.

He said he wanted to do something special for dinner, but I think he's completely forgotten that. We didn't have time to go grocery shopping, either—She raised an eyebrow at what sounded like a herd of elephants trampling from one end of the second floor to the other—Should I remind him or would that just make this worse? We don't have any perishable foods in the house. A few frozen vegetables. Ramen that Mat and Travis requested during those study sessions. Dried beans. Some seasoning. A little frozen meat. Hmm… No, I'll let Derek figure it out. He wanted to take this on.

She turned her attention to another chapter. Several minutes later a shadow appeared over the pages. She glanced up to find a panting Derek in some of the new clothing he'd purchased with Penelope. A blue button-down tucked into a flattering pair of jeans with a simple belt.

"How do I look?" He held out his arms and turned around for inspection.

Oh… That's why... Oh my.

It took the all of the iron will gifted only to mothers of teenagers to control the laughter bubbling in her chest.

Concentrate. What would he want to look like for Spencer?

"You look very nice, honey. Very…put together."

"Put together?" Derek plucked at the shirt, unbuttoning it as he turned toward the stairs again. "I don't want to look put together! This isn't an interview!" He ran back up the stairs.

"God, I hope he never wears jeans to an interview," she murmured. Certain that the show wasn't over, Mrs. Morgan waited patiently for her son to come back down.

And he did quite promptly, this time in a mint green polo and a dark washed jeans. He stopped on the last step, saving himself the extra twenty steps.

"Umm… Rather like a magazine model?" That didn't seem to be what he wanted to hear, either. "Maybe if you undid those buttons at the collar and didn't tuck it in?"

"Ma, I need you to take this seriously!" Derek disappeared up the stairs.

Mrs. Morgan bit her tongue and smiled, waiting for the next outfit.

A plain white t-shirt and blue jeans again.

"Very…you. Isn't that what you wore last week?"

"Wha-No! And I can't look like me, that's the whole problem! Agh! Where's Garcia when I need her?" Gone again.

She held a pillow to her face to muffle the chuckles. She cleared her throat and called up the stairs, "Honey, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you no matter what you're wearing."

"You have to say that, you're my mother!" He shouted back, his voice breaking at the end.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she went about making coffee. That blueberry had been unexpectedly good.

"Fuck! Ma, he's here! You have to distract him, please! I'm not-I'll just be like a minute or two."

"Derek, language and no-"

"Please?" He leaned around the corner of the railing at the top of the stairs, begging her with his eyes.

Mrs. Morgan hadn't seen her son look so desperate since he'd asked to join the football team his freshman year. How could she say no?

"Alright, sweetie, but-"

There was a knock at the door.

"Shit! I'm not ready!" Derek disappeared and slammed his bedroom door so hard she had no doubt it bounced back open.

When did my son become so adorable? Spencer really is good for him.

Trying once again to hold in her laughter, she pulled the front door open to let in an equally nervous Spencer.

… … … End Flashback … … …

Spencer sighed and tried to rein in his thoughts, he had to focus on finding his clothing in Derek's mess. He was angry. At himself and Derek. He'd never been aware of it, because this situation was new to him, but it was difficult to hold on to any level of indignant rage when one was naked. Particularly when one could still taste one's own cum. Doesn't give a person very high ground to start from. He grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled them on as he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Behind him he heard Derek stir.

"Pretty Boy?"

"Just brushing my teeth," Spencer called back. He grabbed the spare tooth brush he kept at Derek's house and did his best not to read into the fact that he had one there at all.

Traditional sign of increasing commitment… Probably something I need to account for when I debate the level of commitment in this relationship. But that doesn't mean Derek sees it the same way I do. Or rather, the same way Cosmo does.

Spencer sighed and brought his thoughts back to the reasoning for his anger. He needed to articulate his feelings clearly or Derek would end up distracting him, yet again.

He spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth. He could see the bite marks littering his pale chest in the mirror and allowed himself a brief smile. He'd known they were there even without looking. Spencer shifted his shoulders just to experience the aching tug of bruised skin. Seeing and feeling the aftermath of Derek's obvious desire for him was a heady thing, but that wasn't what needed his attention right now. He needed to have words with Derek.

Walking back into the bedroom, he found Derek gathering up various articles of clothing and putting them away. He glanced over at Spencer and smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of a freshly marked Spencer.

Spencer flushed and, ignoring the flare of need in his groin, grabbed his shirt from one of the piles. He couldn't let Derek get distracted, either.

"Hey, what's wrong, kid?" Derek hung up the last of the shirts he'd picked up.

Making sure his clothes were all in order, he took a deep breath and faced Derek.

Just speak plainly. Watch the vocabulary. Can't afford any more confusion. I think I'd die. If he gets mad… This never would have worked anyway.

"I'm angry at you." Spencer fisted his hands to hide their tremors.

"Huh? I know you were and I explained everything so-"

"No, you didn't. Not at first. Not until all of this got out of hand. Why did you assume I would know about all the situation with Cecilia? And then to bring Penelope-No, Derek, I'm not finished-in front of me and call her "Baby Girl" before you even introduce us? Wearing the clothes you bought with her?" Spencer had been hard pressed not to start shouting. He knew that a screaming match wasn't going to end with the outcome he wanted. He just needed Derek to understand… So he kept his voice level and didn't stop speaking until he'd finished everything he could think of, even when it looked like Derek wanted to interrupt.

"Now are you finished?" Derek asked, stepping forward to stand directly in front of Spencer. At Spencer's reluctant nod, he spoke, "I explained everything as much as I thought was necessary. When you accused me of sharing this-us-with the student body, I told you then that I would never hurt you like that. Maybe you and I don't think the same way, but in my mind, keeping a girl on the side would have been hurting you even worse than that. And obviously it was. Hotch is right, I'm an asshole. But even I have my limits and my morals… Okay, my morals have improved a little since my freshman year. This whole thing started because I tried having two girls at once."

Spencer blinked. Tried? He'd rather thought that Derek had as many girls as he wanted, whenever he wanted. They never seemed to take their squabbles about who got to sit closest to him very seriously. He'd figured it was due to an understanding that it was better to share him than not have him at all.

Or maybe that's just how desperate I am…

"Jesus, you really do think I'm an ass!" Derek stared at him, flabbergasted.

Oops. I need to learn to control my facial expressions.

"Well-"

"No, no. It's my turn to finish. Not long after I started dating Trish, We had a fight, which in my rather dense brain meant we were taking a "break." During that, like, four day break I met Cecilia during a class change. The guys were right, she's hot. Don't look at me like that, I was just a kid! Not that you're just a-I mean- Hell, never mind. Anyway, I went after her and she was into it. Then a week later, Ma comes to a football game and 'Cilia's there hanging on me to piss Trish off, who absolutely refused to speak to me at the time. Not even to tell me we were not, in fact, on a "break" and as soon as she deemed to speak to me again she handed my balls to me on a platter over trying to hook up with some other girl. Apparently, finding another girl during a "break" is exactly the same as cheating to women, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but-"

"Derek!" Spencer snapped—If this is what it's like when I start my lectures, I pity my parents—"Please."

Derek coughed, "Right, sorry. So Ma met her and pulls this "Oh my God, that's your cousin" line on me right then and there at the football game. Next day, that's all anyone can talk about. Including Trish, who was still pissed and read me the riot act for that, too. To sum all that nonsense up, I didn't think there was any way on this earth that you hadn't heard about 'Cilia. I mean, everyone heard about it. Thankfully, after about two months or so, people stopped talking about it all the time, but kids who transfer in to this day know about it. I know you don't exactly participate in social workings at school, but you have ears. Just how the hell did you miss it?" Derek raised crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow when Spencer blushed.

He mumbled a reply, which only brought Derek far too close for his comfort. "Say that again?"

"I said I was too busy being jealous of Trish!" Spencer stumbled back and turned away, trying to cool his pink cheeks.

"Really?" Derek slid two arms around his waist and brushed his lips over Spencer's neck. "How jealous?"

"S-stop it, Derek! You still haven't explained about Penelope and the shopping," Spencer stammered out, covering his neck and ears with his hands so Derek couldn't distract him.

"I did too. She doesn't want me to call her 'Garcia' like I do the guys, and it feels really weird calling her 'Penelope.' I mean, admit it, it's kinda creepy when I say her first name, isn't it?"

Spencer wrinkled his nose a bit. Derek was right. Hearing him call her that was just a little awkward. And she seemed like a really sweet girl. It helped that she wasn't really Derek's type. Spencer would just have to keep an eye on them, so he wouldn't get paranoid and start making scenarios up in his head as he was apparently wont to do.

"Alright, I'll accept that. But the clothes?"

"Uh-see that's just-they're-I had a growth spurt!" Derek replied, looking incredibly pleased with himself after the first few stumbles. He turned away abruptly and started gathering up the jeans on the floor.

"Derek, I'd believe it if it was just the shirts, but males have growth spurts in their legs and arms first. That's why we look so funny for so long and adults tell us we don't know what to do with all our limbs. At your age, your "growth spurts" will be in your torso. Your legs and arms may grow marginally after this, but by 18 your significant growth will essentially stop. You shouldn't need new jeans right now."

"Can't you pretend not to know everything for once?" Derek slumped over his dresser.

"Well, there's that," Spencer commented, picking up another pair of pants and folding them. "But then there's the fact that these clothes are the same size as your old ones." Spencer smiled when Derek turned to glare at him and snatched the jeans, refolding them and stuffing them in one of the drawers.

"You're lucky I l-" Derek choked on his words. "Like you. You're lucky I like you."

Spencer was back to thinking his blush was going to be permanent. "I like you, too," he mumbled.

There is no way there's not an atmosphere this time.

Derek took a step forward, and Spencer knew enough to recognize this as a Moment. Until his stomach growled. For a solid 15 seconds.

Could that timing have been any worse? Yes, it is almost 8 o'clock in the evening and I haven't eaten since breakfast because I was nauseous, but that's no excuse!

Their Moment was ruined of course. Spencer covered his face with his hands, absolutely mortified. Being a logical thinker, typically bodily noises and functions didn't bother him in the least, but he couldn't deny that they frequently occurred at the most inconvenient times. But Derek was laughing and held out a hand to him.

"Come on, kid, I've got-Shit, no I don't," Derek groaned. "Sorry, I was going to make you dinner, but we got in two hours late and it never happened. I'm sure we can scrounge up something, or order out."

"Anything will do, really. It's just been a little while since I ate," said Spencer, following Derek down the stairs. "But you still haven't told me why you needed all those new clothes and Penelope's assistance in picking them."

A burst of laughter from the living room made Spencer jump in his skin. At the bottom of the stairs they found Mrs. Morgan clinging to the couch for support.

"Would the two of you just drop it?" Derek grumbled, stomping into the kitchen to rummage through the pantry.

Spencer opened his mouth to protest.

It's perfectly reasonable to want to understand an entire change in style. That kind of overhaul generally signifies the occurrence of a major emotional event. Like a new haircut after a relationship ends. Why doesn't he understand that?

Mrs. Morgan leaned over and whispered to Spencer, "Don't worry, sweetie, the clothes don't have any special meaning. Penelope wanted to spice up his wardrobe and he couldn't say no. That little lady is a force to be reckoned with when she gets an idea."

"Ah. I can't decide if I'm going to like her or not," Spencer murmured, somewhat distracted by the view of Derek's ass while he was bent over at the cabinets.

"Well, I'll warn you now, she adores you and that pretty much cinches the deal. You're just a long for the ride," she chuckled, then headed into the kitchen to help her son.

The next morning, Spencer yawned and shivered, clutching his blanket to his chest. It was way too early for this. But Derek had promised to walk with him to the field if he got up early enough and Spencer had no intention of passing that up.

It felt like his entire hellish break was worth it when he caught sight of Derek waiting at the stop sign. They fell into step like they'd never fallen out.

Spencer spread his blanket out over the bleachers and watched the boys play well into the afternoon. Derek was there to make the teams more equal, so Hotch joined in this time. He was right about one thing: Derek kept the team focused. A natural born leader.

A chorus of calls for pizza went up around the field and Spencer let himself be swept away by the revelry, made even greater since it was partly to welcome Derek home. They all pretended that yesterday's incident never happened, and Spencer couldn't have appreciated it more.

After practice Derek walked with him as far as the stop sign and glared at the sheet of metal like it had given him a personal offense. Abruptly, he turned to Spencer.

"I wouldn't mind meeting your parents, you know," his tone harsh.

As far as Spencer was concerned, the anger was wasted. "So come meet them. They're busy, but a simple visit isn't something that really requires an appointment."

There was a moment of silence on Derek's part. "Wait, so I can just come over?"

"I… don't see how it would be a problem." Spencer was certain his mounting confusion reflected in his reply. "Were you waiting for something? An invitation?"

"I invited you to my house," came Derek's indignant grumble.

"Your exact words for your permanent invite were 'You should probably tell them you'll be coming home with me every day.' That's not really an invitation, that's more like an order. And the original 'invite' was even worse than that," Spencer said flatly.

Derek's expression became one of bemusement and he cocked his head. "Pretty Boy, I don't remember you protesting too much at the time. I think I'm going about this the wrong way." Spencer felt a tension he'd slowly come to recognize as 'dominating' spike in the conversation. Derek straightened and suddenly he was looming even further over Spencer.

Maybe he has grown a little after all.

Spencer stumbled back a step. "T-that's-"

Derek's hand landed on the junction of Spencer's shoulder and neck, squeezing tightly. "So let's try this again. I'm coming over to your house tomorrow after practice, Reid. If you and your parents don't already have plans, I want you to come to my house for New Year's Eve. We're having a get together with the team. They can meet all your new friends, which I'm sure will make them happy. Naturally, you'll be spending the night afterwards. If they want to stay, too, they can take the guest room. And you'll sleep with me. How does that sound for an invitation?" Nails dug into one of the bite marks hidden beneath Spencer's shirt and coat.

He whimpered softly. "F-fine. That's fine. I'll ask."

Please, let go. Please. If you aren't going to finish…

Spencer knew from the smirk that stretched Derek's lips that the silent plea was etched across his face.

"Good boy," Derek murmured softly and let go. "See you tomorrow."

With a gulp, Spencer nodded and staggered home.

Lying in bed that night, he realized he'd completely forgotten to tell Derek about his new cell phone.

Spencer was nearly sweating with nerves in his warm coat. The practice was dragging on forever. He was teetering precariously between longing for the end of the game so he could bring Derek home, and hoping it would last the rest of the night. But of course it had to end and just as naturally, the rowdy teens were starving afterward.

It's too bad we won't be going… I'm actually really hungry, too, for once. But Derek-

Was walking away with the team.

What?

"Reid, hurry up! If I have to beat this idiot to a pulp because you're slowing us down, you and I are going to have words," Aaron yelled back to him. He had a struggling Adam in his grip.

"C'mon, Hotch! You'd look badass with a mohawk and you know it!" Adam attempted to reach Aaron's hair, but the older boy was several inches taller and several times stronger.

"If you touch my head with that shit, I will make a permanent indention in this pavement with your face, is that clear?"

"Eheh… Crystal, Cap'n!" Aaron dropped him and started towards the sidewalk to the pizzeria. Adam rubbed his raw throat, only to remember his hands coated in the super glue Travis had dared him to put in Aaron's hair before practice. "Fuck!"

Derek hung back a bit, waiting for Spencer to catch up as they headed down the street. "A bit distracted today, hmm, Pretty Boy? What were you thinking about?"

"N-nothing," Spencer replied, trying to hide the sudden rush of disappointment. He really wanted… Something. Anything. It killed him that Derek was this close and he still couldn't touch him. And Derek seemed to be enjoying dragging the torment out.

Derek didn't press him any further. He turned his attention to his teammates and let Spencer trail quietly behind them.

When they passed the stop sign on the way home, Derek kept walking. Spencer's knees began to shake. His house was only five minutes away now. His house. With his room. And his bed. Where he'd reached orgasm from a mere dream of Derek. Several times.

Where you made out with Ethan.

Too late now.

Spencer opened the door and stepped inside. His insides crumbled further when he found both his parents keys in the basket on the side table. They were already home. Derek would have to meet them first.

He led Derek down the entry way to the kitchen where he could hear his mother cooking. His father would be at the kitchen desk.

Stopping in the doorway, Spencer took a deep breath, lost when Derek nudged him from behind and gave him a look. He took another. "Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Derek Morgan." His mother nearly dropped the pan in her hands. His father set down his pen and took off his glasses.

Three hours later, Spencer was still sulking in his room. His mother and father had banished him there for the duration of their "talk" with Derek. He'd passed the first two losing at chess to the_hero, who commended him for his resilience. Spencer couldn't imagine what was taking so long. Unless…

What if they asked what his intentions were?

Spencer blanched and set himself up for a whole new round of worries.

He was nearly in frustrated tears when Derek finally opened the door to his bedroom. Spencer leapt to his feet, hesitating at the look on Derek's face. The older boy glanced coolly around the bedroom.

"So Ethan was in here with you, too," he commented casually, circling the perimeter of the room.

Spencer nearly choked on the air in his lungs.

Derek took his time running his fingers over all of Spencer's possessions that he could reach.

Spencer clenched his teeth and begged the universe not to let Derek pick up any of his notebooks. The universe smiled on him. Derek's fingers ghosted over the books and he stopped when he reached the edge of Spencer's bed.

"It's late and my mother made plans with family friends. I need to get going." Derek walked right by him and opened the door to leave.

What? He's not staying!

His words jerked Spencer forward like a choke chain. He grabbed the back of Derek's shirt. "Wait, Der-Mmph!"

Derek snatched his wrist and yanked him forward, prying his lips wide with a brutal kiss. He pulled Spencer's arm back at the first sign of a struggle and backed the smaller boy further into his bedroom with the force of the kiss and his anger. Derek didn't let up until Spencer's back was pressed into the sharp edge of his desk.

When he finally pulled away the only thing keeping Spencer standing was his grip on the desk. He was panting and shaking and dizzy from lack of oxygen.

"De-"

"Your parents will bring you to my house on New Year's Eve at 10pm." And with that Derek turned away and walked out, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Spencer realized that at some point his hand must have slipped off the desk, because he was sitting on the floor with ankle twisted painfully beneath him. With equal bewilderment a while later, he acknowledged that he had to have stood up, because he was in bed. His ankle throbbed.

His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep in the morning, but at least they weren't swollen from crying again. That would have just been too pathetic.

There was no way Derek would want to see him after last night, so he stayed home. To assuage his mother's worries he quietly in the living room and recreated every chess game he'd played with the_hero, trying to understand his strategies.

It didn't help him sleep that night.

Spencer's father kicked him out of the house when his nervous pacing became too much for the man to take.

So Spencer paced the yard. His footprints showed a circular track in the snow all the way down to the dead grass beneath it. His mother had to drag him in for lunch and wouldn't let him go out again. He ended up replaying the chess games a second time, waiting for 10 o'clock to finally roll around.

His parents drove to Derek's house, his mother clapping at how inviting the old structure looked. He waited expectantly for them to park, vaguely curious as to why there weren't any other cars at all, but his father twisted in the driver's seat to look at him. "Are you getting out, Spencer?"

"What?" Spencer felt his legs start to tremble. They had to come in, too.

"We already had plans for tonight, remember? Your mother and I are just dropping you off. Derek told us you'd be spending the night here."

Spencer tripped out of the car in a daze. His mother and father wouldn't allow any protest. Their plans had been set for months. How could he have forgotten?

Derek opened the door before Spencer could even knock. The interior of the house was eerily silent behind him.

"Derek, where is everyone?" Spencer asked, stepping inside and stripping off his coat.

"I lied. There's no party. Ma gave us the house to ourselves as one of my Christmas gifts. Now hush," Derek placed a hand over Spencer's eyes and maneuvered him with a hand on his waist.

Don't panic. He won't hurt you. Don't panic. He won't hurt you. Don't panic...

Spencer felt himself being pushed into a chair and recognized the linoleum under his socks as the kitchen floor.

When Derek's hand fell away, Spencer was treated to the sight of a candle lit table and a spread of delicate finger foods and desserts and questionable drinks of unusual colors.

"Wow… Did you do all this?" Spencer looked back at Derek, who scooted in his chair.

Derek cleared his throat and Spencer was certain if he'd been any paler, he would have been blushing. "I had help," he mumbled.

An hour and a half later, Spencer was certain those drinks contained no small amount of alcohol (which explained why Derek was carefully limiting how many Spencer drank) and Derek confessed the whole set up had been Penelope's idea. She was worried about how much the two young men had been fighting and thought a little alcohol and an awkwardly romantic dinner would settle the whole thing out.

Spencer was left shaking his head and smiling ever so slightly over the whole affair. What would have been an embarrassing situation was made mildly amusing in the warm glow of tipsy-ness.

"She's right, though… You're pulling away from me. And it's not just you thinking I was messing around. That wouldn't have been enough to turn you to Ethan before." Derek picked at one of the fluffy chocolate desserts with his fork. "Can't you at least tell me what you're thinking?"

I was trying to find a way to bring this up and that's as good an introduction as any.

"Our relationship is juvenile."

Derek dropped his fork. "What?"

"Our relationship. I was researching it at the beginning of break and I discovered that we have a very immature relationship. I was trying to talk with Ethan about that when everything kind of fell apart and I ended up sliding even further backward into juvenile behavior and it just got out of control." Derek didn't look inclined to speak, so Spencer continued. "I want us to last and the more I read the more statistics I found on how quickly relationships riddle with immature behavior fall apart and ours is ripe with it and I don't want that. So we have to fix it and to do that I have to see you less and think of me more and do all these things I'm not ready to do yet and I wouldn't know how to do them if I wanted to and-"

"Then don't dammit!" Derek slammed his fist on the table, making the flames of the candle flicker.

"But-"

"No! I don't want a 'mature' relationship with you! I'm not an adult yet and neither are you! Do you know what happens when teenagers play at being adults? Pregnancy, early marriage, and earlier divorce. Stalkers and drug addicts. That's what happens when people with the emotional capacity of children play at being adults! God, Spencer, I love you, and I'm not going to let your genius brain pick us apart just because for once you don't know the answer!" Halfway through his rant, Derek had surged out of his chair and was putting a dangerous amount of his weight on the table with both hands so he could lean closer to Spencer.

He…

"W-what did you just say?"

"Shit." Derek slumped back in his chair and buried his face in his hands.


	23. L if For... (Continued)

… … … Flashback: Derek POV … … …

Derek couldn't quite comprehend the sight in front of him.

"Baby Girl, why are you in my kitchen in an apron? And what the fuck are you idiots doing?"

Mat was chopping up vegetables at the table, while Travis sloppily stirred something that looked like a dressing in one of the bowls. Adam's face was distorted by concentration as he attempted to pleat small sections of Phyllo dough in little cupcake tins. Hotch sat at the kitchen table with one hand pressed to his temple.

"I am saving your relationship, my luscious mocha latte," Garcia announced, tapping Derek on the nose with the spoon in her hand.

"We're just doing whatever boss-lady here tells us to do," Mat quipped, gesturing to Penelope with his knife.

"Mat, keep the knife pointed at the food," Hotch said with an exasperated sigh. He glanced up at Derek. "I'm supervising."

" Thanks…" Derek turned to Garcia. "Why does my relationship need saving?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Garcia said, rolling her eyes and handing Derek two oranges. "Peel those and dip them in that chocolate on the stove when it's melted. Fearless Leader," Garcia glanced at Hotch, "don't let him burn that."

Hotch's eyebrow twitched, but he didn't object to the nickname.

"I was gonna make him something," Derek grumbled, dutifully peeling the oranges.

Garcia glanced up from fixing Travis's sauce. "Uh huh. I'd have more faith in that if you could tell me exactly what that 'something' was. Spencer is at an iffy place right now where he can't tell if he's your guy or just one of the guys. You need to do something to make him feel more secure and a pizza isn't going to do that. Not on a special night. Peel faster."

Derek tore the last of the white coating from one of the oranges with a silent snarl. "I don't want him to feel secure! I want him to be honest with me! I want him to apologize and mean it!"

Hotch raised an eyebrow and the others stopped their preparations.

"What?" Travis dropped his whisk in the bowl.

"His mother told me all about Ethan's frequent visits to their house. I can accept him knowing the kid's parents first; they were friends when he was a brat. Fine, ok, whatever. He had that asshole in his bedroom!" The juice of the partially peeled second orange splashed across the table when Derek slammed his hand on the table.

"…Nothing squishable for you then, Sweet Cheeks," Garcia murmured, gingerly sliding the flattened fruit away from him. "This is actually part of why you need to make him feel safer, you know. If he hadn't doubted you, I bet the little dumpling never would have let Ethan touch him. Not like that."

"She's got a point, Morgan. My last girlfriend was always whining and bitching because I didn't make her 'feel special'," Adam mumbled, still focusing on making folds in the dough. "Reid's not the type to bitch, so you're gonna have to do assume he's doing it in his head on some level."

Derek got up and stared into the chocolate melting in the pan.

Mat held his completed vegetable out to Garcia. "Are you going to make him grovel?"

"…No…" Derek stirred the chocolate, trying to figure out how he was supposed to tell if it was burning or not without smelling smoke. "I kinda already made him sweat a bit."

"What did you do, Morgan?" Hotch sighed. Derek glanced back and could have sworn the dark winged eyebrow was twitching.

"Hey, his parents played along, so I couldn't have been all in the wrong. I wanted to make him squirm, so I made him wait for like two extra hours while I supposedly talked with his parents. His dad tried to teach me chess; by the time I went back to see Spencer, I was only losing miserably instead of pathetically."

"Derek Morgan, you're such an ass!" Garcia snapped, chucking her spoon at him.

… … … End Flashback … … …

He said… He said… He…

"Come again?"

Confirm…

"Nothing. Fuck, nothing. Just…eat this," Derek shoved a chocolate wedge at him. Spencer took it on instinct.

"Thank you…" He murmured, turning the chocolate in his fingers. It was rather misshapen, with little indentions that almost made it look like the pulp of an orange. "Derek, tell me what you said."

"You heard me or you wouldn't be asking!" Derek snapped, shoving back from the table. He grabbed some of the dishes off the table and threw them in the sink.

Confirmation.

"If you can say it once, you can say it again." Spencer couldn't stop the grin stretching his lips. His face was going to break.

Just one more time. Repetition solidifies fact. Make it fact. Please. Don't let me be the only one.

"Damn it, Reid, forget about it. It just…slipped out." Derek's shoulders were beginning to slump and Spencer wanted desperately to comfort him, but he needed to hear it just once more.

Just once.

"Unintentional utterances are the subconscious's attempt to be heard. They are frequently more telling than any scripted vocalizations and place untold weight on our thoughts and actions. The fact that it "just slipped" makes it even more significant." Spencer knew his smile could be heard in his voice and he didn't care. If Derek would just turn around, he'd know the smile was one of utter joy.

Just say it one more time, and I'll tell you what you need to hear.

"Fuck, do you have to rub it in? It's not like this is easy-"

Don't I know it?

"-You have no idea-"

Try me.

"-You drive me crazy as it is! I mean-"

As crazy as you make me? I doubt it.

"-I can't get you out of my head-"

Neither can I. Though that may have more to do with my eidetic memory…

"-Ever since freshman year-"

Spencer gripped the edge of the counter to steady himself. His world seemed to be tipping sideways.

"-I'd swear I saw you everywhere-"

Steady breaths, Spencer.

"-You have no clue how much shit I caught from the guys-"

Really? You're joking right?

"-I can't sleep. When I do, I dream about you-"

He was starting to feel a little giddy and his knees were trembling.

"-Half the time I can barely eat. When I see you, my stomach feels like it's in knots! Butterflies, my ass. They're fucking tapeworms-"

Truer words have never been spoken.

"-My words get all jumbled up-"

It's like you can't focus…

"-I always say the wrong thing, because something about you just pisses me off! You're so goddamned—Ugh! I just want to fuck with you-"

Mmmm… Focus, Spencer! He's pouring his heart out, don't think about sex.

"-But when I do, I feel like a total ass. And my heart starts pounding and climbing up my throat-"

Like it wants to burst from your chest…

"-And I freak out and I know I'm ruining everything-"

No… No, you aren't.

"-Like I'm doing right now-"

Words clawed at Spencer's throat. But if he spoke now, Derek would be done and in all likelihood, he'd never say another word on the matter. This was everything Spencer needed to know, all in one tangled mess of emotions. Derek was going to have to suffer a little longer.

"-Then of course, there's the guys. They probably fucked half of this over before we even got started-"

Very nearly.

"-And I barely even tried to stop them, even though I knew what it did to you."

Spencer couldn't argue that one.

"But I've been trying to make it up to you! I made sure you knew you were always welcome-"

Actually, you practically told me I couldn't leave.

"-And the guys even changed their tune; hell, they're keeping other assholes off of you now…"

Which I appreciate more than you know.

All trembling had subsided and Spencer was basking in a warm glow he didn't quite recognize.

"You still make me so fucking nervous, though! I've never given a damn about what shirt I was wearing before spending a night sitting at the fucking kitchen table!"

That was for me?

Spencer bit his tongue to hold his silence. He was going to start crying any minute now. Derek hadn't turned around at all. His hands clutched the edge of the sink and he was shaking like a leaf. His shoulders were heaving as his rant came to a close; he'd barely paused for a breath once he started.

"-And you still haven't said a word," Derek mumbled, his grip turning his knuckles white.

"Derek, look at me."

The older boy refused to budge, and Spencer was forced to wedge himself between Derek's body and the counter. With a considerable about of effort, he lifted Derek's chin enough to look him in the eye.

Spencer struggled to keep his smile under control. He needed to make sure Derek knew he was serious.

"Derek, I love you, too." Spencer lost the tenuous hold on his smile when Derek's jaw dropped comically. "At least, according to my mother I do. She probably knows better than I would."

"Why the hell didn't she tell me that earlier?"


	24. Proverbial Wedding Night

Spencer shuddered and fought the urge to bolt.

Don't be scared. He said it first. And he means it. He has to. This isn't a mistake. Breathe. He'll go slowly. He'll be gentle. It's his first time with a guy too…

Derek's earlier outburst had reassured him of his own feelings, despite how terrifying they still were. But right now he needed to focus. He was about to face something far more terrifying. And tantalizing. With a deep breath, Spencer tugged his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. He caught sight of his bare chest in the mirror and squeezed his eyes shut.

You've always been pale and skinny. This isn't a new development. Derek has seen you shirtless before and he seemed to appreciate the view. A lot.

Spencer opened his eyes again and took a step towards the mirror. Bean pole. That's the only word that came to his mind. He could almost see his rib cage; almost count the vertebrae of his back. The crest of his hipbones protruded slightly from his skin, flaring out to give the vague illusion of a more effeminate figure. Not an extra ounce of fat on his body, and not for lack of trying. Thankfully, he had a freakishly slender bone structure, or else people would have thought he was anorexic. There was nothing he could do about it. He'd tried for years to gain weight. It just didn't happen. He still had his fingers crossed for metabolism shift when he finished puberty.

But do you really want that? Derek wants you as is…

A clatter and a muffled curse from the other side of the wall called him back to the present. Right. The concrete proof that Derek wanted him. Tonight. He was supposed to be…preparing himself. Mentally, at least. Derek had promised he'd take care of the rest. Spencer trusted him to do that.

Derek had been kind enough to give Spencer the privacy and security of the bedroom. His nerves must have shown on his face. Derek needed to…clean up beforehand. It comforted him that the older boy hadn't foreseen the turn the evening had taken. Even after all that Derek had revealed, he'd intended to keep his promise to Aaron and wait for Spencer's birthday. So Derek had slipped into the bathroom, allowing Spencer the chance to hide beneath the covers until he came back. Except he was too scared to move any closer to the bed…

He needed to calm down. Pale red splotches were beginning to show up on his chest. Hives. He was worrying himself into an outbreak of hives.

Breathe! Think of something else. Anything else. Preferably something arousing. Derek. What about Derek?

Spencer traced his kiss-swollen lips with his fingers.

That kiss… And all the ones after.

… … … One hour earlier … … …

Derek hadn't taken long to recover from the shock of Spencer's confession of mutual…affection.

Love. Don't be a coward. You were able to face it before. Knowing that the feeling is mutual should make it easier, not scarier.

But all the same, it did. It hadn't immediately after the admission. It had felt wonderful. Though, truthfully, it didn't hold a candle to Derek's lips on his when the taller boy bent him backward over the counter to steal the breath from his lungs.

Spencer could see a faint bruise forming on his back now, a match for the edge of the counter top. He hadn't felt it then. Derek consumed his entire world with that kiss, sealing their words between them and promising more when they parted. Hands had settled gently on his hips; thumbs slid beneath the hem of his shirt to caress heated skin. Derek had pulled back just far enough to lock eyes with Spencer. His voice had been so soft, "Pretty Boy…."

So heated, so desperate, and… something else. Spencer had seen it in his eyes beneath the haze of lust, pinching the skin at the corners.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked almost frightened.

But that wasn't possible. Nervous about the new experience? Likely. Fearful? No.

In the heat of that moment, Spencer hadn't felt any fear either. Just need. And he'd answered the only way he could: "Please, Derek…"

Being conjoined at the lips and hips had made maneuvering through the kitchen and up the stairs difficult, but neither boy had been willing to let go. They'd knocked over a chair when Derek stumbled backwards, nipping at Spencer's lips and pulling the slight frame tightly against him as if he'd feared Spencer would run.

I'm reconsidering that now…

Thinking the tallest would be more likely to see in this situation, they'd turned so Spencer was the one tripping over his feet. That particular approach had ended when Spencer's head cracked against the frame of the archway into the hall.

Should have known better. I'm a klutz facing forward with both hands free for balance.

Even for that Derek hadn't broken their kiss. He'd gently cradled Spencer's head in one hand, still clutching him tightly with the other. Spencer had fallen a little more in love when he felt the lips against his shaping the question: "Are you ok?" His response had been to arch up into Derek's body and open his mouth wider, begging for Derek to rob him of the air he'd need to answer.

The two boys had lost all sense of direction by the time they hit the steps. And Spencer meant that literally.

At the first attempted step they'd fallen all over each other, though Derek took care to curl around Spencer's body and take the majority of the force of the fall. The tangled efforts to right themselves had only resulted in Spencer being pinned beneath Derek's muscled form. And of course, Derek hadn't been able to pass up that chance. Four hickies later, Spencer had managed to crawl backwards up half of the stairs with Derek reattached to his lips and a hand teasing the sensitive skin at the small of his back. He'd stumbled there and Derek had taken the opportunity to tease him to near incoherence. He'd finally twisted away and scrambled up the stairs on his hands and knees, breathless with laughter and need. But Derek had caught him at the top of the steps and pinned him face down. The pressure of Derek's swollen arousal against the cleft of his ass, even through the layers of fabric between them, was almost enough to push Spencer over the edge. In fact it would have been, if the light from Derek's open bedroom door hadn't caught their eyes at exactly the same moment.

The night wasn't going to end there on the steps or later, with Spencer's head between Derek's legs.

That was when Spencer's nerves hit him full force.

He'd been a little confused that Derek had backed off as quickly as he had, standing immediately and helping the disheveled Spencer to his feet. They'd both shifted awkwardly for several seconds. Spencer had waited for some sort of signal or reassurance from Derek, but the hand clenching and releasing the loose fabric of his jeans had betrayed the older boy's own turmoil.

After a brief mental debate, Spencer bit his lip and did the bravest thing of his young life. He'd grabbed Derek's had and taken a step back towards the bedroom. Derek's eyes had widened comically and he'd stumbled forward a step or two before pulling up short.

"I-I need to clean up," he'd mumbled softly. "Wasn't planning on…."

At a loss for words, for once—Actually, that seems to happen more and more often with Derek—Spencer stuttered out, "Oh…Um…Yeah. Ok, yeah. Do you want some privacy or…"

Derek caught his glance towards the bedroom and shook his head. "No, no… I'll just, uh, take the bathroom."

… … … Present … … …

So here they were, preparing in separate rooms like chaste newlyweds.

And as soon as I muster the courage —Spencer snorted at the irony—I'll run and cower beneath the covers, probably too scared to even take off my box-

Spencer groaned softly to himself. He'd already gotten so used to Derek's instructions not to wear them anymore that he'd forgotten he was naked beneath his slacks. (Of course he still threw clean pairs in the laundry for his mother to wash, or she'd start asking questions).

Not even that pitiful scrap of clothing to hide behind.

Spencer ran his fingers over the cool glass of the mirror, lingering on the reflections of imprints of Derek's teeth on his skin. His stomach fluttered and tightened with the need to have Derek's warmth beside him again. Soon.

And now I have a choice. I can either cower and shiver and let myself be stroked and cossetted into something that I want to be a wonderful experience for both of us… Or I can act like I want it as much as I know I do, butterflies or no.

He focused his attention on the noise from the bathroom again. He'd faintly heard running water. Derek would probably come back any moment, ready to go, and Spencer would still be standing here in his slacks like an idiot.

Now or never.

He hurried to the door and switched the overhead light off, leaving only the moonlight and streetlights shining through the window. No need to make this evening harsher with too much artificial light. Besides, it was tradition right? Shedding the offending pants, Spencer tiptoed to the bed and crawled on. His limbs trembled violently.

You are not wearing any less clothing now than the last time you were naked in this room. Stop being stupid.

But he couldn't fight the feeling that he was bare down to his bones. He closed his eyes and took what was meant to be a steadying breath. No such luck. Sitting back on his heels on the blanket, Spencer hugged himself tightly, trying to at least lessen the tremors wracking his lithe frame.

Calm. Breathe, Spencer. You trust him. He'll guide you through this…

Spencer felt his muscles relax. It was true. He trusted Derek to make this as gentle and wonderful and impassioned as possible. That was enough. His body throbbed with reawakened desires.

A soft gasp had his eyes open to find an equally naked and needy Derek in the doorway. His eyes were wide once more, but Spencer didn't see any trace of the earlier tension and that put paid to the last of his concerns. If Derek had no reservations, then everything would be fine.

"You're beautiful," he whispered and Spencer blushed brightly.

Now I know why it's typical to turn the lights off.

"Thank you," Spencer mumbled, his butterflies stirring themselves again. He lowered his eyes to the blanket, worried his hives would come back if he kept trying to match Derek's stare.

He heard soft footfalls as Derek approached the bed and the soft creak as his weight was added to the mattress.

"Pretty Boy, look at me."

Strong arms wrapped around Spencer's body and he glanced up. Derek caught his chin and held him still.

"Are you sure? Promise me you'll tell me if you're not. Any time, not just now. "

Spencer blinked. He'd read enough—And discovered enough on my own—about sex and arousal to know it was in fact a lot harder to stop midway than many romantics pretended, but it still meant a great deal to him for Derek to make that offer.

"I'm sure and I promise," Spencer whispered. Then he pressed his lips to Derek's and deepened the kiss before there could be any further doubt in either boys' mind.

He was surprised at how tentative Derek's caresses were at first. All of the rush and heat, and more than a small amount of the passion, they'd raised on the way to the bedroom was gone. Derek's hands trembled and hesitated over skin that was used to needy gropes and strokes. He moved slowly over Spencer's flesh, despite how clearly both of their bodies longed for more. Quickly.

Why is he acting this way? The Derek I know is not this unsure. I shouldn't be able to think coherently at a moment like this… Whether it's my first time or not, I am not made of 2000+ year-old Egyptian papyrus! I will not crumble!

The second time Derek flinched at a gasp his fingertips pulled from Spencer the young genius was forced to call a halt to the madness.

"Derek, what exactly is the problem? You're obviously interested. I'm obviously interested. You've handled me more firmly than this during a simple make-out session! Why are you so nervous?" Spencer tried not to huff. The book he had hidden in an old Dicken's hardback cover that had lost its pages years ago told him that an negative feedback from a partner could destroy a male's confidence in bed almost irreparably. That was not the goal. His body wanted and Spencer intended for Derek to be the one to answer that want.

If he would only just DO IT.

"I-I don't want to hurt you…" Derek mumbled softly, looking away and letting his hands drop to his sides.

Lie.

Spencer caught his fingers and pulled them back around his waist, holding them their behind his back. "That means a lot to me, Derek, but now isn't the time to be worried about injury. You're holding back and hesitating where you never have before. You have never been this gentle with me and I don't need you to be right now. Blushing virgin I may be, but I will not break from a foreplay."

He watched Derek struggle to speak for several moments.

"But I don't want you to feel pressured or rushed. I want to give you plenty of time to draw boundary lines." His voice was still little more than a subdued murmur.

Lie.

"I really do appreciate your courtesy, but you've taken me so much farther than a few tender touches." Spencer could see Derek was beginning to wilt, in more ways than one, and so was he. This discussion was ruining the mood in general and his own mood in particular.

Think. What does Derek like? What will get him past this? Talking. We're doing that. Talking dirty. Verbalizing. What to say… Vocalize what you want.

Spencer hid a small smirk and leaned forward to murmur against the skin of Derek's neck. "You've had me pinned in your bed, with nothing but two layers of flimsy cloth between us, grinding your cock into the crack of my ass and I didn't call you off. I promise you can take it at least that far tonight with no worries. Personally, I'd prefer we repeat the scenario without the clothing…and then take it a little farther."

Derek shuddered and Spencer felt the skin beneath his lips grow warm. His own body responded and his hips jerked forward instinctively. His rising arousal brushed against Derek's and the two boys moaned simultaneously.

Success.

The hands he'd been holding shifted and were suddenly gripping his wrists tightly, pulling Spencer back much to his horror.

"What if you're not ready?" Derek panted, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

Spencer nearly screamed. "Derek, I'm ready! Please!"

"But-"

"I'm beginning to think this issue is more about you!" Spencer groaned in frustration.

Derek froze.

Idiot! Thoughtless moron! Of course it's about him too! This is his first time with a guy, as well.

"Derek…I know this is the first time for both of us but…"

Derek's eyes flew open. "How did you know that?"

Spencer blinked.

What? Genuine surprise? Wasn't that a- Oh. Oh my.

"This is your FIRST time." Spencer was too incredulous to phase it as a tactful question.

That's impossible. All those girls… So many girls…

"…You were going somewhere else completely with that statement. Fuck." Derek groaned and sat back on his heels, nudity entirely forgotten.

That's going to hurt so-Focus!

"Yes, yes I was… I thought-But how-ALL those girls?" Spencer had hoped for an evening of incoherence, but this wasn't what he'd had in mind.

"Yeah, do you know where almost 'ALL those girls' have been? I do and I'm not touchin' that." Derek shuddered with a grimace.

"But even I know the rumors… If the school knew you were still a virgin…"

"Exactly. Rumors. That's all it is. Those bimbo girls, hot though they may be, don't want to admit that they'll settle for giving without getting anything in return. Everybody already knows who the real sluts are in our school, so it won't tarnish their names to add me to their bedposts. And I'm not going to bother setting anyone straight, 'cause frankly my sex life isn't anyone's business but mine. And yours, I guess. And Hotch's, apparently. And maybe Garcia's."

"Umm…Me, I understand. Why Aaron? And dare I ask…Penelope?" Spencer queried, curiosity distracting him briefly.

"Well, Hotch was the original reason I didn't start screwing anything in a skirt my freshman year. I mean, seriously, I was 14 years old in a school full of girls that don't wear underwear under their skirts. It's a festering pit of STDs waiting to happen. Of course, I didn't give a shit about that as I'm sure you could see by my antics at that first pep rally. After that, Hotch figured out pretty fast that I was going to need someone to make sure I didn't do anything even more stupid. The quarterback was trying to get the whole team together to pound my face into the pavement, so Hotch made me a deal. If I refrained from any "coital activities with unsavory characters" as he put it, he'd keep the guys off me until that asshole of a senior graduated. He kept his word so I kept mine."

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that you didn't interact with even ONE moderately sensible, healthy girl at our school? There have to be a couple. That's just simple statistics." Spencer quickly calculated the odds based on the number of females at the high school. Seven. Odds were there were seven decent girls.

"Oh, there are dozens. And they were all sensible enough not to talk to a guy who's supposedly slept with some of the easiest girls in school. Can we say walking STD?" Derek laughed.

Spencer could tell by the set of his shoulders that Derek's earlier tension had disappeared completely.

Understandable. He probably knew that I was expecting him to play the role of the experienced partner and there was no way he was going to be able to fill it. It says something about his stamina that he was able to achieve and maintain an erection under that much pressure to perform… Passion, Spencer. Not textbook. For once, don't think with your brain.

"And I meet his standards?" That answer was obvious, but he couldn't help but want the reassurance.

Derek just looked at him.

"Right. So… Why is Garcia on the list of people who get to know about your sex life?" Think passion in a minute. Right now, make sure he's comfortable.

For one selfish second, Spencer had to wonder when this night had gotten so muddled.

Derek released a put-upon sigh. He reached over to the drawer of the nightstand, the stretch drawing Spencer's attention once again to the nudity that Derek seemed to have no memory of. Spencer was reminded of his own unclothed state and attempted to close his legs a little tighter.

Derek fished what he was searching for out of the drawer and sat back up to present Spencer with a tube of water-based lubricant.

"This, a variety pack of five flavored bottles, and a fucking half-gallon container of this shit with a pump were a gift from Garcia. Apparently, water-based is easier for cleanup, more sanitary with less risks of UTIs, and doesn't make silicon based sex toys deteriorate."

How Derek was able to explain all of that with a straight face, Spencer would never know. He himself was blushing furiously.

But you should have thought of it, too. Where would this night have gone without lubricant? Lotion? Absolutely not. Completely unsanitary. Don't think about the sex toys. Just appreciate the gift.

"Well… that was sweet of her," Spencer managed.

"Yeah, I think my thanks would have been a little more genuine if I had known exactly why I needed it when she gave it to me. I didn't find out until afterwards. I honestly was not planning on this for like another year. And sex between two men isn't exactly something I read up on a lot." Spencer's blush intensified. Thankfully, the poor lighting hid it. In fact, darkness seemed to make this whole conversation easier. No wonder sex is the dark was so traditional. "She suggested porn, but the dudes in that stuff really grossed me out and I wasn't able to get around to the part I actually needed to see. For some reason, it's just you. I like what you do to me. I like what I do to you. I like what we do together. I don't like watching other guys doing the same thing. It makes it feel…less. If that makes any sense."

"Um, yeah, a little," Spencer mumbled, trying not to let his smile show. "But how much did you get to see, really? Because this isn't really something you just…go at."

If this night was going to turn out well at all, Spencer needed to know just how much instruction to give Derek. He didn't want to micromanage their first time, but he wanted it to be good enough that both of them were willing to try it again. He silently blessed his inherent need to understand everything.

"Just enough to know that it's going to hurt you a lot and my lack of experience is only going to make it worse." He slumped forward again.

Losing progress. Not ok. Time to turn this back into what it was supposed to be. Seductive. Think seductive. Tell him what you want, what he can do.

Spencer tried to forget about the nudity as thoroughly as Derek had and pushed forward to bring their bodies back together. "It doesn't have to," he murmured, placing kisses along Derek's jaw. "That's what all the lubricant is for."

Derek's hands rose instinctively to clutch Spencer's waist as the young man worked his way to his soon-to-be-lover's lips.

"You," Spencer punctuated with a swift lick of Derek's lips, "have to stretch me wide open before we even start." He slipped his arms up around Derek's neck and ran his nails gently over the exposed skin of his scalp. The older boy shuddered against him, this time with evident pleasure.

"Yeah? And how do I do that?" Derek lifted one hand to catch Spencer's chin and tilted his head back to nip the tender skin of his neck.

This may end up being the best of both worlds. He gets to hear me talk dirty all night and I can have him do exactly what I want.

"You coat your fingers in that lubricant Penelope so generously provided-Ah!" Spencer gasped when Derek caught hold of his earlobe with his teeth. "Then you push them into my body ever so slowly, one at a time, waiting until I'm begging and pleading before you even consider adding-Oh!-one more."

Derek gripped his hip tightly and thrust there pelvises together, dragging a ragged cry from Spencer.

"I think I can handle that," Derek panted into Spencer's overstimulated ear. "Just how many do you think you can take, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer struggled to control his breathing. He reached up and grabbed the hand holding his chin. With deliberate care, Spencer carefully inspected the dark hand filling his own. Derek raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently for the answer to his question.

Casually, Spencer held the hand upright between them, gripping the wrist in one hand and slowly running the fingertips of his free hand over Derek's knuckles. After a moment or so, he caught Derek's index finger and extended it slowly, pushing it slightly away from the rest. The warm gusts of Derek's breath rushing over their hands came more rapidly as Spencer added his middle finger shortly after. Then the ring finger.

Spencer could feel Derek's heated gaze on his face as he toyed with the idea of adding the pinkie, as well. At last, he looked up to meet Derek's eyes.

"I guess we'll just have to see," he whispered hotly.

With a soft snarl, Derek shoved him backwards and trapped him against the mattress. "I guess we will."

Over the course of the next two hours, Spencer learned that despite his lazy attitude in school, Derek was an excellent student. And could follow a set of instructions to the very literal letter.

So as Spencer arched and begged and writhed, Derek pushed a third finger into his waiting body and Spencer sobbed at the fullness. Every time he came close to completion, Derek backed off. He'd prolonged the torture by a full hour and Spencer was going out of his mind.

"More, Derek. More. More more more more more!" He moaned, unable to verbalize any of his other needs.

"Soon, baby," Derek soothed. It was all a pretense. Spencer could see the lewd smirk stretching his dark lips clearly. Derek was loving this.

"Gonna cum…I'm gonna cum!" Spencer squirmed, trying to force Derek's teasing fingers deeper inside him. All twinges of pain were gone. Derek had been more patient and gentle than Spencer could have hoped, because the older boy was right. It had hurt. Badly. Spencer owed Penelope the most lavish birthday presents for the rest of her life in exchange for that lube.

"Nuh-uh, Pretty Boy. Not until I'm inside you. I want to feel your body clenching around me," Derek growled, pulling his fingers out completely.

Spencer sobbed brokenly at the loss. But he was ready and Derek could see that. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom. Spencer struggled to catch his breath as he watched Derek tear it open with his teeth.

Derek saw him watching and leaned down to kiss him softly. "Just in case, baby."

Spencer nodded. Completely logical. Glad he'd thought of it. Spencer wasn't thinking right now. Not at all.

With another sizable helping of the gifted lube, Derek was pushing into him and Spencer was fuller than he'd ever dreamed possible. For all their care and preparation, Spencer barely felt a pinch as Derek slid in one centimeter at a time to bury himself to the hilt in Spencer's slender body.

The sensation was overwhelming. His breath was coming in heaving gasps and Derek moaned and rested his head on Spencer's chest.

"Fuck, baby, calm down! You're squeezing me and I'm gonna lose it. Fuck!"

Spencer tried and tried, but even his own breath was jostling Derek inside him and he was too close the edge to come down now.

"Doesn't matter, just move. God, please, just move! Even once…" Spencer was not a religious person, but if invoking the name of Derek's deity had even the slightest chance of helping the situation, he'd try it now.

"Fuck," Derek groaned and surged forward.

Once was enough for the both of them. Derek hadn't found Spencer's prostate in that single stroke, hadn't found it all night, but Spencer couldn't have cared less. It didn't take a prostate to have a mind blowing orgasm. He could attest to that personally now.

Oh. My. God.

After several silent moments of heavy breathing, Derek labored to lift himself off of Spencer's chest where he'd collapsed.

"Baby… You ok?" His face was awash with uncertainty.

All Spencer could do was laugh.


	25. Yes, you can hold my hand if you want to, cause I wanna hold yours too

**Title is a lyric from Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry

... ... ... Flashback: Derek's POV ... ... ...

I can't. Oh my God, I want him so bad and I'm not going to be able to do this… I'll hurt him. I know I will. Fuck, why didn't I just suck it up and watch the rest of that damned porn? Garcia was right…

Derek splashed water over his face.

He'd had an ulterior motive in letting Spencer take the bedroom. This way he controlled the environment. No risk of Spencer walking in and seeing a supposed figure of sexual prowess giving himself a pep talk in the mirror.

I can do this. I can. Just…ease into it. Whatever IT is. I know the general concept and the instinct is there. That's enough, right? Right. Ok. Yeah.

With a deep breath Derek stepped towards the door.

Nope. No. Not enough. Not ready. What did she say? Lube. That's in the drawer somewhere. Some of it anyway. What the hell am I supposed to do with a hand pump of that stuff? That's a lot of sex… Mmmm… Shit. Focus, you aren't even sure you're going to be able to go through with this yet. Stop getting off on the idea of it.

Clean? Check. Garcia had said that was important for both of them. And a condom. Not just for safe sex, but also to keep him from getting urinary tract infections until they were experienced enough for-What did she call them-enemas. Derek wasn't sure what those were, but since Garcia hadn't been willing to describe it he was fairly certain he didn't want to know. On the other hand, thanks to a drunken cheerleader, he knew what a UTI was and it sounded fucking awful so maybe the enema thing was a decent way to go. Or just keep using the condoms. Spencer was a virgin, he wouldn't know the difference.

Hell, I won't know the difference. Holy shit, I'm about to give my virginity to a guy and that's not the part I'm freaking out about.

He had to stop stalling. Spencer was going to start wondering where he was. The key was to play it cool… Derek really hadn't expected Spencer to be willing tonight. He wasn't ready. There was no way the kid was ready. Hotch was right; they were both too young.

Derek opened the bathroom door and wished for Spencer's brain. He needed to calculate the odds of talking Spencer out of this.

Those thoughts fled at the sight of the teen naked on his knees in Derek's bed. The streetlight cutting through his window threw all of his favorite features of the boy's body into sharp relief. The hollows at his hipbones and the flare they created at his waist. The smooth line of his collar bones and throat. The gentle slope of his narrow shoulders. His long, slender limbs. When he finally hit his growth spurt, Derek was certain Spencer would be able to look him dead in the eye. Might even be a little taller. But his favorite part, the one that startled him the most when he realized it, was Spencer's flat chest. He'd always found women's breasts incredibly attractive, and unreasonably fun to watch jiggle, but that had changed with Spencer. Derek couldn't imagine anything more upsetting than having a sack of fat jutting out into the path of his hand as he dragged nails over Spencer's flesh, or more frustrating than having to lift that same sack to nip his way across every inch of the boy's body. That's all they were to him now: unwelcome obstacles.

God, he's so beautiful.

Derek hadn't realized that he'd spoken the thought allowed until Spencer thanked him with a shy blush.

Shit, he really is the blushing virgin. And I'm the bumbling one. Christ… I can't do this. I have to talk him out of it.

… ... … End Flashback … … …

Spencer stared up at the ceiling. He'd been up for hours, but Derek was wrapped around him so tightly and he couldn't bear to move. They'd both felt rather uncomfortable sleeping naked, so Derek had loaned him a pair of boxers. He wished they'd taken the time to shower. Derek had wiped away the remnants of Spencer's release with a warm washcloth, but it wasn't the same.

But that wasn't what Spencer had been thinking about as he watched the sun rise in the window. Those discomforts had lasted all of ten minutes. Then they were overwhelmed by the realization that he'd lost his virginity and his second thought the morning after was that he wanted a shower. His first had been little trill about waking up in Derek's arms. But he'd figured his second would be some variation of uncomfortable soreness.

I suppose our extensive preparation was a success. Or maybe the intense soreness will only follow a longer round of interc-sex. If that's the case, I'm very pleased we neither of us had the stamina for a marathon round. I wasn't really looking forward to a day of pain to punctuate a very satisfying first time.

Spencer curled his toes idly, allowing himself to experience the way the tensing muscles in his legs shifted his slightly stretched body. No pain or discomfort. Just an unusual sensation, a reminder.

Very satisfying.

The only thing that disappointed him was the main reason he was horrified about just wanting to bathe. He didn't feel different. He knew biologically that his body had experienced mild changes, but that wasn't the same as what he'd read in psychology books about first times. He was supposed to feel…different. In general, after his/her first time a teenager will feel an emotional growth has occurred and wonder why the internal change isn't reflected externally. At least, that's what all the text books said. They attributed it to hormones produced in the aftermath of inter-sex. Stop being clinical!

Spencer felt the same emotionally. He still loved Derek. He was still a young Einstein with an eidetic memory. He hadn't tested it yet, but he'd be more than willing to bet his college fund-Don't know why I have one, I'm going to get a full ride wherever I want to go-that he was still socially awkward. Basically, he was still Spencer William Reid. And that was it.

Is it because we're both males? None of the books really mentioned that. Would that change the chemical production in my brain? It doesn't seem likely… Those levels are supposed to be a response to sexual arousal and emotional pleasure at the hands of another individual. It's not like vaginal intercourse between a man and a woman presses a magic hormone button… Alright, it does in the woman as she prepares her body to attempt reproduction, but not in the male counterpart.

He sighed. It didn't make any sense and that hadn't changed in the last hour or so and it wasn't likely to change in the next few minutes. He needed someone to talk to about it, because the books weren't helping. Before that, he needed a shower.

Spencer glanced at the clock. 8: 47 am. Derek's mother would probably be home soon and they needed to get up. Derek needed to get back in the habit of getting up early again anyway. School started in three days, something Spencer had been doing his best not to think about. School started on Tuesday. He'd have to see his counselor.

How does one go about explaining a first time to a school guidance counselor?

He didn't need to think about that now. He'd face it later. Right now, he needed to wash his hair and get the sticky feeling off of his skin.

"Derek… Derek…" Spencer pushed gently at the warm body wrapped around him.

"Nnn." Derek squeezed him tighter.

"No, Derek, get up. Come on, we need to get up and set the kitchen to rights before your mother gets back," Spencer huffed and tried to worm his way out Derek's grip. "Honestly, Derek, wake up!"

"Why're you so damn noisy in the mornings?" Derek grumbled, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

"Because I have an inexplicable desire to be conscious and functioning when the sun is up. It's unprecedented, I know, but you'll have to learn to live with it. Now get up," Spencer couldn't help the slight smile that touched his lips. The reply was worded sarcastically, but he just couldn't manage the exasperation the situation warranted. Odd.

To his confusion Derek froze, his eyes widening to show a parade of emotions ranging from startled pleasure to frustration with a touch of anger. He sat up abruptly and swung his feet out of bed with a put upon sigh.

"Not exactly the wake-up I was hoping for…"

Spencer blushed hotly and chucked a pillow at him. He couldn't say anything. It wasn't what he had expected either. While Derek gathered their clothes Spencer slipped into the shower and forced himself not to dally with his usual shampooing routine. Still, by the time he was done, Derek already had the bedroom cleaned up and Spencer could hear him clattering around the kitchen.

After mussing the guest room sheets with careful carelessness, Spencer followed him down. Mrs. Morgan might know intuitively what the boys were up to, but there was no need for him to make it blindingly obvious.

Derek righted the furniture and cleaned up what little food had been spilled in their haste the evening before. Spencer took up dishwashing duty and tried not to read into the comfortable silence that settled as they worked. The swirl of the water as he scrubbed each plate lulled him into quiet meditation.

It's the same…but it's different. I don't understand what changed. Something did. But it wasn't Derek -Spencer jumped at a light smack on his ass and splashed some of the dishwater after the retreating hand-Definitely not Derek. And it wasn't me. Where was the desire to cuddle? Where was the lingering intimacy? Did we sleep through it? How long do those hormones last following int-sex.

Spencer chewed at his lower lip and flinched. Derek must have bitten him a little harder than Spencer realized. The bruise wasn't visible, but it was there. It was a small comfort. But still, everything Spencer had read indicated that there should be heightened feelings in the relationship now. Particularly right now. Unless there wasn't the appropriate emotional investment. That was also a factor to be considered. But Spencer was invested. He loved Derek. Loved his personality, his charm, his innocence, his experience, his temper, his confidence, his body…

Definitely his body…

And yet… Nothing.

Maybe once wasn't enough. It was a bit…difficult at first. Maybe it's because I wasn't expecting to be the voice of experience. Maybe if next time I'm a little more…swept off my feet?

Spencer mulled the idea over, draining the dirty water and refilling the sink. He lifted his feet as Derek mopped beneath them. If he'd already gotten to that stage, Spencer was taking too long on the dishes. He scrubbed more vigorously at the soaking platter. Cooled chocolate was a pain in the ass to clean up.

That's ridiculous. It has nothing to do with Derek's inexperience. That was a very pleasant surprise. To be his first as well… That's more than I ever hoped for and it should only have made this morning more special.

He set the platter in the drying rack. He needed to talk to someone. And now he knew exactly who.

"Derek?" Spencer called out, glancing at the bare table. He must have gone to throw the table cloth in the washer with his sheets.

Derek came back around the corner with a stack of clean hand towels.

"What's up," he mumbled, his head in the cabinet.

"Could you give me Penelope's phone number?" Spencer asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Derek straightened and raised an eyebrow. "Something you need to tell me, Pretty Boy?"

Note to self: work on nonchalance. Nervous interest was not what I was going for.

"No, no… I just want to…thank her…for…" Spencer coughed and scuffed at the floor. Derek's broad grin made him blush.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh and a wink. "I need to send her flowers for that."

It's not a lie. It's not. And even if it were, it's not wouldn't be a harmful lie.

Spencer nodded, but couldn't bring himself to flirt back. What did it say about him that he couldn't address his confused emotions with his significant other despite his extensive readings on the importance of communication? All the psychologists made it sound so easy: Set aside time to talk… Approach the topic calmly… Be open and honest with your partner… Of course, their relationship wasn't exactly "textbook" in nature, but Spencer still rather expected that the transition of their interactions from contractual to mutual interest would help him be able to conduct a mature conversation about his emotions. Apparently not.

He caught a glimpse of irritation in the set of Derek's jaw before finding himself backed into the corner of the counter. Smoldering dark eyes bored into him. Derek crowded closer; his height forced Spencer to tilt his head back sharply in order to maintain eye contact, something he instinctually understood was expected. The muscles in Derek's shoulders had tightened noticeably and Spencer knew it would be in his best interest not to question at the moment.

In all honesty, he didn't want to. For some reason it felt like it had been a very long time since Derek had taken this role and Spencer's body was loudly reminding him how good it felt to be physically ripped from his own headspace. When fingers twined through Spencer's hair and blunt nails dug at his scalp, his muscles sagged abruptly. His skin pebbled with goose bumps in a sudden rush of hypersensitivity to the heat pouring off of Derek's body. His lips parted in a breathy gasp as Derek twisted the fistful of hair slowly. His eyelids fluttered, creating a shutter effect as Derek's irritation morphed into a confident self-satisfied smirk. Spencer's body burned at that promise, hotter now that he knew there could and would be fulfillment. His hips thrust forward and his hands tugged at Derek's shirt; he would have risen on his tiptoes to take the kiss Derek was dangling mercilessly in front of him but the hand in his hair kept him firmly in place.

"Derek…" he tried not to whimper too pathetically.

"Uh-uh. You missed your chance, babe. I wanted to fuck you into the mattress this morning, but you just had to get your peppy little ass out of bed at 7:30 in the goddamn morning." Spencer shivered as warm, dry lips trailed softly across his temple and over the shell of his ear. "I wanted to watch your spine bow when I pushed three of my fingers into that tight little ass alongside three of your own. But you needed to wash every lingering trace away. Regrets, Pretty boy?" The cruelly delicate lips had passed up along his jawline and paused at his chin. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself for overthinking the situation. He would have shaken his head in frantic denial, but the fist in his hair clenched tighter.

"No, no, I-" Derek's teeth grazed his ear slowly and Spencer's vocabulary lost roughly two hundred words with every nip. And every single one was English. He was certain that if Derek started speaking Russian in the next millisecond the conversation could be successfully completed. Not likely.

Spencer was still struggling with his pronouns when floorboards squeaking on the front porch signaled Mrs. Morgan's return. Derek stepped back with a frustrated sigh and gave Spencer a heated look that made it clear their discussion was far from over.

The two boys attempted to ignore Mrs. Morgan's knowing smile, but hung their heads in defeat when they heard laughter from the second floor. She'd seen the rumpled sheets in the spare room.

"I shouldn't have even bothered," Spencer groaned, slipping on his shoes and taking the overnight bag Derek held out to him.

"Nope. The woman knows absolutely everything," Derek replied with a resigned smile. "Oh yeah, Garcia's number. I'll write it down for you…"

Spencer pulled out his cellphone. "That's alright, I'll just-"

Oh no… Please tell me I didn't do that…

Derek's eyes were glued on the black plastic in his hand when finally got the nerve to look up.

I did. I haven't read about it, but I am positive there's some sort of protocol that requires telling your significant other your cellphone number. Or that you even have one.

"Derek, I'm sorry! I completely forgot it until just now! It was a Christmas present, I swear. I just got it…" He wasn't sure what to say in this situation. Something seemed better than nothing, but nothing may have been the best option after all. How was he supposed to know? Derek wasn't giving any clues beyond the body language that screamed just how pissed he was.

He finally caught Derek's eyes, but the older boy said nothing more than, "I'll write it down for you. You probably don't know how to save a contact yet. This will be faster."

Faster. He doesn't want me here right now. But he's right, I can't work this thing.

Spencer stifled his rising hope on that. He could tell from Derek's warning tone that it would be a note in his favor if he couldn't work the phone properly. Proof that he hadn't used it much, if at all.

Spencer cringed when Derek shoved the scrap of paper in his hand. Maybe not that much in his favor, after all, but he'd take anything at this point. He stood up and hesitated before reaching for the doorknob. A goodbye kiss wasn't likely now.

Derek never seemed to care much for probability though. Spencer found himself musing as his back met the door. The knob was digging into his ribs, but he didn't care because Derek was kissing him even though he'd done something stupid. It wasn't a gentle kiss, more a mark of possession. Spencer was fine with that. He could accept that. So long as this one mistake wouldn't ruin everything. He couldn't be certain just how large of a transgression in the unwritten rules of relationships he'd made.

When Derek pulled away, Spencer fought every nerve demanding he pull the boy back to him.

"I'll talk to you in school on Tuesday."

Oh… Oh.

So distance was to be his punishment then. That was…alright.

Three days is nothing. It's not even half a week. And that will give me time to talk to Penelope… Three days is nothing.

Spencer repeated the thought with every step back to his house. He hadn't taken his gloves out of his bag and his hands were going numb in his pockets, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

It took at least an hour to get back to his house. It must have. He was certain that the distance between their homes had tripled, quadrupled even. The mantra had run through his head at least a hundred thousand times. He'd had a more specific count, but after turning at the stop sign that had been their meeting place for so long the words turned into a continuous stream. He'd lost count shortly after.

Spencer kicked the snow off his shoes at his front door. His insistent replies to his mother that everything was fine, yes, he'd had a great time, rang hollow in his ears. He would tell her a little of it eventually, but if he started now, he would ramble for hours in panic. First he needed to call Penelope.

That ended up taking a lot longer than planned. Dinner was over and the sun was setting before he finally dialed her number. Somehow he'd convinced himself that this conversation couldn't happen if he didn't know exactly what to say, so he'd been sprawled on his bed all afternoon scribbling potential directions for the phone call in his notebook.

As the phone rang, he scanned through his options. An older woman, voice graveled from years of smoking and warm with years of motherhood, answered. He had an option for that.

"Hello, you've reached the Garcia's." Success. Step two.

"Good evening, ma'am. I was wondering if Penelope might be available. I'm going to be one of her new classmates." All of her possible responses that he'd calculated with his potential replies stretched across his notebook like an algorithm, but harder to follow.

"She's here. Didn't know we'd been here long enough for her to make friends yet." Hmmm, not really in his conversation map, but not difficult to improvise with.

"From the little time I've spent with your daughter, ma'am, I suspect that there is nothing that comes more naturally to her than making friends," Spencer answered. And it was true. Despite her quirkiness, or maybe because of it, Penelope was an infectious personality.

There was a brief silence, and Spencer worried he'd swerved too far from the map.

"That's sweet of you to say, young man. About both of us. It's true for Penelope, but I'm Penny's grandmother. Let me get her for you."

"Penelope Garcia, All Knowing Goddess," came the cheerful bubble. "Who've I got?"

Too much personality. The map should have been made in 3-D.

"Umm, hi, Penelope, it's Spencer." That was ok right? He was back on one of the veins at least.

"Muffin! When did you get my number?! Did Derek give it to you? Ohhh, how was last night? And this morning! Did my gifts come in handy? Tell me everything!"

Spencer sighed and closed his notebook. Hopeless case.

"Your gifts were greatly appreciated," Spencer mumbled with a hot blush. "Derek did give me your number and last night was…perfect in the least perfect meaning of the word. This morning was absolutely wonderful and then weird and then awful…That's why I'm calling. You're the only one I thought might get it, I guess."

Besides my counselor. I don't want to talk to her before I have to though.

"Excellent! I'm so gla- Wait, what? Why was it awful? And weird? What happened, lovey?"

Spencer wasn't sure he would ever be used to the pet names.

"I-I think…I think there's something wrong with me. And beyond that I did something really stupid."

"A genius like you? Never. Tell the Mama Garcia what happened."

That should make this creepy somehow, but she pulls it off.

"That's just it! I don't know… I…when I woke up this morning, I didn't feel…anything." Spencer had worked so carefully on how to explain his confusion and Penelope bowled him over in less than five minutes.

"Anything? At all? You didn't even cu-"

"NOT LIKE THAT! I mean, yes, I…you know, enjoyed it. That was wonderful. But this morning…Nothing. I was happy to wake up with him, but I'm always happy about that. I thought there would be, maybe, something else. Something…more. I thought I would want to stay in bed all day with him and be as close to him as I could possibly get, but all I wanted was a shower. I thought I would look at him and my world would tilt, because now it's, I don't know, real. Or more real. Or something. I don't know…" How was he supposed to explain something he didn't understand? Why had he even begun to think that breaking down the conversation might help?

"Silly! You had sex! It's not like you put on rose-colored glasses. Madams and ladies of the evening have all sorts of clients and sex with almost all of them and they don't get the urge to buddy up for the rest of their lives with 'em."

"But this was my first time! It's supposed to be-I mean, it WAS special, but it's supposed to mean more! And with someone I love, too…" Spencer pulled a pillow over his head. "I'm hopeless emotionally. I'm nothing but a text book."

"That's crap and you know it. You're already head over heels for our Mocha Latte. Anyone with eyes and an open mind can see that. So tell me a little about how our brain works. What's the deal with the glasses that turn the world upside down?"

"Hm? Oh that's our ability to adapt. After three days, our brain adjusts and to the wearer, everything looks like it's right side up again. If they take the glasses off, it will take three more days to readjust and see the world like everyone else again."

"So here's the thing, Sweet Cakes, your world's been tilting for that boy since you met him. Yeah, he told me all about your interesting beginnings. He's your first love. Don't answer, that's a statement not a question. Your first love is like…a huge delicious ice cream cake. Then you finally get to have sex with him? That's icing with the perfect consistency and sweetness. Getting to have your first time with your first love? That's like the cherry on top. Or really, more like popping the cherry on top. You have this whole overwhelming amazing thing already and the fact that it's your first time? That just drowns in its insignificance. It could be your millionth time, and it wouldn't matter except to give you more variety in positions. When you smile at one another? That will be different. When you start something? You'll know you get to finish it. When you look at his bed? You'll blush even brighter. But you already love Mr. Macho as much as a teenager is able. You can't be so greedy as to ask for more than that."

And somehow, that made perfect sense.

Spencer rubbed gritty eyes the next morning. Penelope had assured him that the phone situation wasn't as bad as he thought, especially sense he honestly hadn't meant anything by it and had no contacts in it except for her. But they had still been up til late in the night talking. It was a new experience for Spencer. Penelope was perhaps his third peer with whom he'd spent any amount of time on the phone. They had talked about all sorts of things. Future plans. Her passion for electronics. His concern that he wouldn't find an application for all of his knowledge after college. Past experiences. His torture in elementary school. The death of her mother and father in a car accident, which was ultimately the reason she and her grandmother moved. Her first time and her first love. She hadn't experienced them with the same person. Derek's confusion, and Spencer's embarrassment, when Penelope recommended the eventual use of enemas. His notebooks and therapy and social awkwardness. Her therapy and blogging and unique style.

Despite his exhaustion, Spencer was elated. This, he was certain, would be his first honest to goodness high school friendship.

He spent the rest of the day trying to keep his eyes open and helping his mother clean the house. It kept his hands busy, but his mind was unfortunately free to wander over missing Derek. But Penelope had addressed a point Spencer had been avoiding the night before. They were going to be seniors after the summer. Spencer could have graduated already, but…a tiny part of him hadn't wanted to leave high school yet for some twisted-Derek -reason. He was glad he'd stayed. But they weren't going to end up in the same colleges. It just wasn't going to happen. If Derek even wanted to go to college, which Spencer was fairly certain he didn't. But the end of this year and the next were a long way off. He needed to focus on the present.

Spencer sat down to a grueling chess match against himself and ended up collapsing in his bed after dinner. He dreamt of becoming a professor at an Ivy League school, of being published in world-renowned psychology generals, of traveling the world to obtain a Bachelor's in every possible subject, of joining the FBI, of marrying Derek. Of being alone for the rest of his life.

The last jerked him upright with heaving gasps. One more day until school started. He would see Derek again. Everything would be ok. It was a large stretch to go from forgetting about a cellphone to a life alone.

Spencer couldn't be sure who was more startled when Penelope knocked on the door, himself or his mother. She spent the whole day endeavoring to keep his mind off of the confrontation that was sure to come and informing him in no uncertain terms that he was not to contact Derek.

"The boy wants space to think and stew and pout. Give it to him in spades. Make him come to you. You aren't as in the wrong as his reaction makes you think."

On Tuesday morning Penelope appeared to escort him to school, providing much needed silent moral support. He braced himself when they found Derek seated on the front steps of the school surrounded by usual crew of teammates. He wasn't sure what could happen since their relationship was a secret, but he was certain there would be some lingering anger.

Spencer could only blink when all Derek did was hand him a cellphone very similar to his own.

"I didn't know you had one too…" Spencer paused as Derek's expression twisted minutely and the team tried to hide snickers.

Oh. He didn't. He bought it because I have one. I see.

Spencer smiled brightly and typed his number on the bright screen and saved it as Pretty Boy. The first bell rang and the group rose to head inside, jostling the two lovebirds in the middle of their circle and introducing those who hadn't already met Penelope.

The phone in Spencer's pocket vibrated and he opened it with a glance at Derek.

:Cute name. Hold out your hand, Pretty Boy.:

Spencer raised an eyebrow and stretched out his hand. His jaw dropped as Derek laced their fingers together and the team seemed to turn their circle inward in slow motion.

"Walk with me to class?"


End file.
